


Waiting In The Dark

by atticrissfinch



Category: Glee
Genre: Implied Rape/Assault, M/M, Prostitution, Smoking, seblaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atticrissfinch/pseuds/atticrissfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is a hooker on the streets of New York, where as fate would have it, Kurt crosses his path (but not in the way you’d think…).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pride wasn't something that Blaine had ever felt he had lost. He'd been kicked out of his home at seventeen, working the streets ever since, but he always kept a smile. It's what got him customers in the first place. Blaine had confidence and a smile and an ass that wasn't likely to quit any time soon. Sure, most people would look at him like he was the scum of the streets, nothing but trash in the bustle of New York, a cheap whore.

But Blaine would thank you to know that he was not cheap under any circumstance.

Maybe when he was new and still a fresh face in the game of soliciting, Blaine would admit that he had to start somewhere-everybody starts out with the skint ones, not willing to pay much for a little tap from a jittery newbie. But given a few months, and Blaine blew the top of off most of his customers and earned himself a better-than-decent rep.

Blaine was just innocent enough, just charming enough, just sexy enough, just talented enough to get the (blow) job done right, and it served him goddamn well. He had the assets and he had the drive, and that was all he needed.

_"Hey sweetums, looking hot tonight."_

_"Mmm, thank you Mr. Hitch. You're looking like you need a little pick-me-up. How'd you like to hold-me-down?"_

_"Well, how could I refuse that offer? Hop in."_

He was efficient and quick, but not too quick. He had no problem getting more than one hit a night, though it wasn't rare for a regular to drop enough cash to have him until daylight. Blaine certainly wasn't complaining.

Blaine had definitely experienced his share of psychos-abusive drunks, men with strange complexes, and he'd had more than a couple knives skimming the fine hairs from his neck-but any dedicated street worker knew not to let it get to them. One night was bad, but that didn't mean the next wouldn't yield bank.

On an abnormally warm Friday in October, Blaine was feeling extra confident. He decked himself out in his sexiest black corset vest with white trim, his bright red leather skinny jeans, sturdy black docs, and eye makeup to beat the band and poised himself on his usual corner around six o'clock. The sun is barely setting, and the rush hour isn't slowed to a complete halt any longer, but the workers have yet to get home. It was the prime time for prowling, luring in those sveltely suited business men with his siren's call of visible youth and ferocity that Blaine effortlessly emanates nightly.

The telltale sight of a sleek black Mercedes maneuvering over to the curb has Blaine smirking with delight. When the tinted window glides down, Blaine can tell it's not someone he's had before, but he does get an eyeful of middle-aged, decently handsome, broadly built man, clearly on his way home from somewhere very well-paying if the crisp Armani suit isn't lying to him.

And Armani never lies.

Blaine saunters seductively to the car, bending over obscenely to rest his forearms on the ledge of the window. The leather of his pants strains against his ass in a way that he knows is absolutely delicious for onlookers, sculpting him into a thing of pure sex that drops jaws and causes hands to twitch into fists to keep from grabbing. It's force of habit, really, but if he accentuates it a bit more than usual, Blaine chalks it up to the peculiarly warm autumn air.

"Hey, sexy." Blaine says, ensuring that his voice runs smooth and enticing. Blaine remembers very well being able to get men off with simply the dripping sex of his voice alone, and that's something that he wears as a badge of honor. "It's forty for a job. Eighty for a fuck. But only twenty-five if you just want to watch."

The man stares, lust apparent in his wizened eyes as the wind whooshes past the bare, waxed skin of Blaine's exposed chest. The deep voice from the man startles Blaine in a warm way, his pants tightening at the crotch. "I'll give you a thousand. Get in."

Blaine's finely shaped eyebrows rise, peaking sharply with surprise. "Shit baby, you can have whatever you want with that load." Blaine doesn't waste any time pulling open the car door and hustling inside. A wad of bills is tossed into his lap as he situates himself, neatly folded in half. Blaine flips through quickly, and there is absolutely about a thousand in hundred dollar bills in his hands.

Money makes Blaine hard. And right now, he's practically keening with want.

"Good thing," the man mutters, in clear response to what Blaine had remarked earlier, "Cause I intend to have a lot of fun with you."

Blaine's cheeks heat up in arousal, and he shamelessly kneads the heel of his hand over the bulge in his pants. "I'm yours, baby." Blaine breathes, eyes growing heavy with well-practiced seduction, "Tonight I am so yours."

~*~

"Ok sweetie, what is with the zombie act lately?"

Kurt jumps at his desk, startled by Isabelle's sudden appearance while deep in thought about...well...things.

"Jesus, Isabelle, you really should warn a guy." Kurt scolds, running a hand habitually down his shirt to smooth it out. "And I don't know what you mean."

Isabelle rolls her eyes, leaning against Kurt's desk with a casual, yet predatory gaze that she only uses when she wants to extract information from someone. He should really get it through his head that nothing gets past Isabelle. "Oh, come on, Kurt. You've been dazed and zoned out all week. Don't think I can't see through that look like a cellophane dress, honey." She insinuates, her bracelets jangling as her hand grips her hip. "Either your childhood dog died or you aren't getting laid."

"Isabelle!" Kurt protests with mild horror, but she smirks in reply to his reaction. Kurt huffs, deflating considerably into his chair and letting his arms hang lazily off of the armrests. "Ever since Adam hit the road running, I've barely gotten anything. And it's just not enough to have sex. I need a boyfriend." Kurt confesses, staring fixedly at the wood patterns in his desk.

The smell of Isabelle's perfume intensifies, and he finds himself face to face with her as she leans down into his space. "It takes time, Kurt. Picking someone up off the street isn't how you find a boyfriend."

Kurt sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I know, I know. But it just feels like I've exhausted my options."

"This is New York, honey," Isabelle trills, a bit melodically, "You've never exhausted your options."

Kurt gives her a weak smile and nods. "You're right. I just have to look a little harder."

"That's the spirit, sweetie. Now go home. You've been working yourself to the bone lately and you look like you need some ‘you time.'"

"You're probably right."

Isabelle grins goodheartedly. "I always am."

Kurt sets out into the darkening chaos of the city, illuminated with lights and adventure and opportunity, and Kurt feels bone-tired. He knows he shouldn't spend all of his time wishing he had someone to hold him in his bed every night, but he can't really help it. He and Adam had been together for six months and he'd grown accustomed to a warm body behind him and kissing his neck, stroking his hip, sucking his-

No. He wasn't thinking about that tonight. He knew if he got his mind on the track of sex, he'd end up bringing a stranger home, and that's going against everything Isabelle had just instructed him. He had had enough of poor, unsatisfying fucks in the past months and he wasn't looking forward to adding to the pile. He was done with bringing men home, especially on weekends like this where Rachel was back in Lima, spending time with her dads. Tonight would be for him, to recuperate and to maybe delve into that bottle of wine in the cupboard...

His train of thought is interrupted by the sound of crying, heart-breakingly helpless crying, in the near vicinity of where he'd just reached the steps of his apartment complex. From the proximity, Kurt would guess it as from the alleyway to the left of the building. He really shouldn't think anything of it-this is New York after all, and people cried all the time. There were strange people out on the streets, and for all Kurt knew, it could be a psychopath trying to lure in possible victims.

Even still, he finds his feet moving towards the sound that is definitely coming from the alley, now that he's closer. He spies a shadowy form, huddled on the ground, looking as if holding itself as the cries continue. Kurt clamps his eyes shut, trying to squeeze rational thought into his brain. This could be a crazy person. He is probably just a homeless guy. He could have a knife. He could be crying because he murdered his entire family and now the cops are after him.

...But what if he was just mugged? What if someone just threatened his life and he has nobody to talk to? What if he has nobody that cares about him? What if he is just waiting for someone to show him some kindness? What if he needs help?

Kurt curses his inner monologue as he steps into the alley tentatively, gripping the ends of his scarf as he does so. Upon getting closer, he can tell it is in fact a man, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head pressed into his knees. There's a subtle shaking in his shoulders that matches up with the pitiful sound of his sobbing. Taking a deep breath, Kurt squeaks out something. "Um...excuse me? Are you ok?"

The man's head darts up, alarmed. The first thing Kurt notices is that the man is...well, beautiful. True, there's black gunk smeared down from his eyes and over his cheeks and his face is blotched from the tears and-yeah there's definitely some bruising around his left eye, but he is undeniably beautiful. He had to be about Kurt's age, early twenties, and there's a fluffiness to the curls on his head that seem to have a mind of their own, judging by the state of them.

The next thing he notices is the clothes. Seeing the tight leather pants and what looks to be a corset, accompanied with doc martins, Kurt has quite a few insinuations about the man himself. Insinuations that he's not so sure make him want to get to know this man if they are correct. The man's grip on his legs tenses at Kurt's presence, and his expression is undeniably guarded. And Kurt thinks that maybe, just maybe, this man could be as lonely as Kurt.

"Yeah, of course, I'm fine." The man says thickly, wiping at one of his eyes and effectively smearing his makeup all the more. "What do you want?"

Kurt tugs on his lip with his teeth, wrapping his arms self-consciously and protectively around himself. "I'm sorry, I just heard crying and I wanted to make sure..." Kurt trails off, hearing how stupid he sounds now that he's spoken out loud. "God, I'm sorry, you can just...I'll go." Kurt stumbles on his words, turning to scurry out of the alleyway.

But before he can get anywhere, the man shouts out weakly, "Wait!" Kurt spins around cautiously, eyes immediately falling to where the man is still curled up on the ground. "I'm sorry. I appreciate you...you know. That was really nice of you." The man speaks softly, kindly, and sincerity rings in his words.

"You just sounded so sad and I don't know what came over me." Kurt confesses, shrugging slightly, attempting to relieve the anxious tension in his shoulders. "I figured something bad must have happened, or you're absolutely psycho, to be sitting on the disgusting concrete in an alleyway."

The man's mouth breaks out into a soft smile, his eyes shooting downwards to stare at the ground. "Yeah, it is pretty fucking gross. But sometimes there are worse things than my fear of catching some disease." He reveals, his voice giving way to whatever fear in question he'd hinted at.

Kurt nods with understanding, his head swiveling around to the street-side of the alley to try and get his bearings, and more importantly, try and figure out what the hell he is doing out here at night in New York with a complete stranger in a dark alley, who he has a pretty good hunch is no stranger to other strangers. This is material for a horror film, really, and Kurt had walked into it willingly. Yet, he can't shake the feeling that this man isn't dangerous. He seems sane enough, just very, very broken up about something. And Kurt can relate to that.

"What's your name?" Kurt asks, retuning his gaze to the man who hadn't moved his eyes from the pavement below him.

The man's mouth twitches slightly, almost as if in shock, before speaking. "Blaine."

"Kurt." He steps forward and reaches out his hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine smiles, taking it with a gentle grip.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt." Blaine wipes at his eyes one last time, sniffing his nose briefly.

"Pleasure is mine." Kurt releases his hand and takes a breath. "So Blaine, am I allowed to ask what it is you're upset about? You don't have to tell me your whole life story, but if there's anything I can do to help?" Kurt offers, scuffing the bottom of his shoe at the ground nervously.

Blaine breathes out a laugh, grinning. "It might be a little intense for you."

"Are you a hooker?" The words spill out of Kurt's mouth before he can stop them, and after they're out he wishes he could scoop them all up and put them back in. He feels his face going red with embarrassment as Blaine laughs out loud.

"The politically correct term is ‘sex worker' but yes. I am a hooker." Blaine replies, more jovial than Kurt would expect from someone who just admitted to being a prostitute.

"Oh." Kurt mutters, avoiding Blaine's eyes. "I'm sorry, that was really rude."

Blaine waves it off. "It's fine. I'm not as ashamed of it as I should be. The only times I'm ashamed are nights like these." Blaine shares, picking at a rip in his pants that Kurt deduces is a new addition, and not one that was self-induced for stylistic reasons.

"Did one of your...your...did someone attack you?" Kurt stutters out, trying hard not to offend him and not knowing what the correct term was for a sex worker's...work.

Blaine nods, and Kurt can see his lip trembling the slightest bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I was attacked."

Kurt's mind races, and all he can think is, _You said you wouldn't bring anyone home, Kurt. This is a fucking prostitute for God's sake. That is the last kind of guy you should be bringing home._

Kurt can't even explain his motivation when the words come out of his mouth. "Look, if you wanna come in for a little while, I live right here. You can clean up, compose yourself, whatever you need."

Blaine's eyes brighten considerably, and Kurt has to admit that it's adorable. "Really? That would be so great. Thank you." Kurt gives his hand and Blaine pulls himself up, brushing off his ass and holding onto Kurt's hand a bit too long for Kurt to be comfortable. When their eyes meet, their hands immediately drop, and Kurt wraps it back around his waist.

"It's...I'm just right here..." Kurt mumbles, indicating to the building but keeping his eyes on the ground as he walks out of the alley, knowing Blaine is following by the sound of his footsteps behind him.

Every rational thought inside Kurt is screaming against it, but he leads on, and he can't seem to stop, even as he unlocks and slides open the door to his loft, letting Blaine inside with a small, "Come on in."

 

 

~*~

"Do you have a light?"

The man, Kurt, is jerked out of his thoughts as Blaine speaks, tearing his eyes away from the stories of stairwell below them. Kurt eyes the cigarette between Blaine's fingers and hesitates.

"Um...yeah, hold on." Kurt hauls himself up from the fire escape and heads back inside. Blaine, freshly cleaned and his face devoid of the night's memories but for the purpling bruise below his eye, slips the cigarette into his mouth, jostling it up and down between his teeth as he waits for Kurt to return.

The metallic sound of boots on the fire escape signals Kurt's arrival, and Blaine twitches the corner of his mouth into a half-smile. He mumbles out a brief "thanks" as he takes the matchbook from Kurt's hand. The box is about half empty, Blaine figures from all of the scented candles that are positioned around Kurt's tastefully decorated loft. He strikes one up and lights the cigarette, shaking out the flame before letting the spent match drop down the levels of the escape. He hands the matches back to Kurt but he shakes his head resolutely.

"You keep them."

Blaine smiles again, tucking them in his pocket with another expression of gratitude. He takes a long drag, letting the smoke settle into his lungs before gracefully releasing it in a jet stream into the crisp night air. "Do you want one?" Blaine asks, realizing how selfish that would be not to offer this man who had been so kind to him the friendly gesture of a cigarette.

"I don't smoke." Kurt utters, and Blaine nods in understanding, part of him grateful that Kurt wouldn't take offense. "Thank you, though." Kurt tacks on.

Blaine simply nods again, taking another drag and tapping out the ashes on the ledge of the stairwell. The silence between them is almost numbing, but Blaine really doesn't know what to say. He's exhausted the amount of "thank yous" you can give a person for what Kurt had done, but he's not so sure Kurt wants to hear the full extent of his graphic night, either.

Blaine's down to the butt of his light when Kurt finally speaks. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Blaine shrugs, grinding out his cigarette and dropping the butt to follow the matchstick. "It's really not as bad as I made it look."

"You have a bruise on your face and your clothes are all torn. I would say yes, it was pretty bad." Kurt objects lightly.

"Ok, well it's not bad in comparison to others I've had. We'll put it that way."

"Then why do you do it? If you don't mind my asking."

"The money's good." Blaine tells. "Money's great, actually." Blaine grins, tapping his finger at the metal webbing of the stairwell floor. "Guy who did this to me paid me a thousand bucks." Blaine says, indicating to his current state. "Everybody gets a few psychos. It's just part of the job."

"But you're risking your life every day." Kurt says, his eyes widening in what Blaine thinks is...compassion?

"Yeah, so do firefighters. So do cops. So do military men. I just happen to get a lot of sex out of it. Not the worst way to go let me tell you." Blaine chuckles, pulling his legs inwards to sit cross-legged.

Kurt eyes him warily, and there seems to be a constant question in his eyes. "So you really enjoy what you do?"

Blaine nods, "Yeah, I actually really do. I mean, how much fun is it to dress all sexy and watch men drop trou for you while thrusting money in your hand? It's like a constant thrill, every night. You never know who's gonna bite today. Sometimes literally." Blaine throws out, winking at Kurt with a smirk.

"I guess when you make it sound like that." Kurt says, still seeming a little anxious.

"Kurt, if I'm making you uncomfortable, just let me know." Blaine assuages. "You've been incredibly gracious and the least I can do is to tone down the sex talk. I know not everybody is comfortable with sex."

"I'm very comfortable with sex, thank you very much." Kurt protests, mildly offended.

Blaine's eyes widen, his hands flying up in defense. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry. I wasn't insinuating that you were...I mean hell, that would be a fucking travesty if a guy like you wasn't being appreciated."

A blush rises in Kurt's cheeks as Blaine's words. "I'm really not that much of a catch."

"Oh, screw that, you're a fucking sex god, Kurt. And I swear to god, that's not just hooker talk." Blaine asserts in utter honesty.

Kurt's cheeks only grow redder at Blaine's admission, and something about that makes Blaine feel really warm inside. Not just with arousal, but with a feeling that he's maybe lifting this boy's spirits. That's practically his entire chosen profession, making men feel better about themselves. Giving them power.

"Well, if you must know, I'm not ‘being appreciated' as you so delicately put it. I haven't gotten laid in over a month. And I haven't had a good one in...god I don't even know." Kurt replies, almost with fatigue. Blaine can relate, of course, he knows what it's like to not get a proper fucking for an extended period of time. Being a prostitute, it's sort of hit and miss every night.

Blaine sees the opportunity, and he takes it. He doesn't know if Kurt would be interested, but he can definitely try, and he has no doubt in his mind that it would be good.

"I mean, I'd love to repay you, Kurt." Blaine lets drip, thrusting himself forward onto his hands and knees, crawling slowly towards Kurt, trying not to intimidate and going for more propositioning, but he can't deny how much he wants to show Kurt a good time.

Kurt's eyes bulge in shock, watching as Blaine prowls forward with a willing look. "Blaine, I don't..." Kurt places a hand on his shoulder and Blaine freezes where he is. "Look, you're very attractive and I'm sure you're very talented, but I'm just not really looking for anything tonight. I'm sorry." Kurt expresses.

"No, no, it's no problem!" Blaine answers hurriedly, pushing himself back up to sit on his legs to a more non-threatening position, "I was just offering, I promise." Kurt's breathing has gone a little heavy, probably in panic, and that's entirely Blaine's fault. "I'm so sorry, I swear that's not why I came up here with you. I truly am grateful for your hospitality. That's just my usual reaction to returning favors." Blaine informs.

Kurt nods quickly, allowing his breath to slow down. "Yeah, no, I just. I'm not interested in..." Kurt gesticulates randomly, but Blaine gets the gist.

"You don't want to be fucked by a whore, that's fine." Blaine laughs, trying to lighten the air. Kurt doesn't seem quite at ease, however, and Blaine decides that he's probably overstayed his welcome. "I should go. Thank you so much for everything." Blaine says, standing up.

"You don't have to go." Kurt says, looking up at him with an expression of longing. "I mean, it's really dark out. If you want, you can just go home in the morning."

Blaine smiles. "Kurt, I thrive in the nighttime. It's really not a problem. But thank you. Hopefully I'll see you around." Noting the look of regret on Kurt's face, Blaine adds, "Why don't you I give you my number?"

Kurt agrees readily, tugging his phone out of his jacket pocket and handing it to Blaine. He types in his number quickly, smirking as he enters his name as "Blaine Swallows" and hands Kurt back his phone.

"If you ever are looking for a good time, Kurt, give me a call. Any time, any day."

Kurt nods. "Yeah, of course. Take care of yourself, Blaine."

Blaine grins and knocks two fingers against his forehead in a salute as he clambers back into the loft and out the sliding door. He'd be willing to bet his life that Kurt watched his ass until the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a little unexpected, but seblaine kind of happened in this chapter. I really hope that doesn't deter you all, because this IS a klaine fic, and it's endgame klaine. I can pretty much guarantee that seblaine won't go too in depth. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

“Look, all I’m saying is that Barbra Streisand absolutely revolutionized the face of traditional beauty.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, feeling Rachel’s hands grip Kurt’s arm just that much harder to put forth her point. He breathes out a small laugh, the air puffing white in front of them as they stroll down the streets of New York back to their apartment.

“I never said I disagreed with that!” Kurt insists, “Barbra is an absolutely stunning talent that cannot be denied. But Patti Lupone—”

“No, Kurt. No. I’ve won.” Rachel interrupts matter-of-factly, fully looping her arm through Kurt’s and adjusting the strap on her purse to hike it up her shoulder.

Kurt sighs. “Whatever, Berry. We both know—”

“Kurt?”

The voice stops Kurt right where he is, causing Rachel to be hauled back a few inches by her captured arm. His head whips around, and sure enough, there he is, leaning back against a wall clad in a studded leather jacket zipped up to his neck and a pair of truly awe-inducing tight jeans and the same Doc Martins he’d been in the first time they’d seen each other. A whole mix of emotions shoot liquid-hot through his stomach at the sight of him for the first time in over a month since their little…whatever it was in the alleyway. There’s a little intrigue at his getup, a lot of embarrassment for realizing that he never did call that number in his phone that he had so boldly named “Blaine Swallows”, as well as fear because, well, he never exactly told Rachel anything about what had happened that weekend and Rachel was bound to know something was up.

Kurt releases Rachel’s arm, taking a step in front of her in a half-hearted attempt to block her tiny view of Blaine, knowing full well that Rachel would just maneuver out of the way. Can’t blame a guy for trying.

“Blaine, hey.” Kurt smiles, giving a small wave in return. “How are you?” Out of the corner of his eye, he can clearly see Rachel staring at him, teeming with both curiosity and irritation, obviously that Kurt hasn’t ever mentioned this handsome stranger who not only looks like a prostitute, but actually is one.

Blaine smiles as well, only his has the ever so slight hint of a smirk twitching at his lips from glimpsing Rachel’s expression. “I’m pretty good, thanks. You?”

“I’m good.” Kurt says, attempting to fill in the silences so as to not allow Rachel any interrogation. “So—”

“Hello!” Rachel charges forward, nudging Kurt out of the way and hold out her hand firmly. Kurt mentally covers his eyes with his hand, knowing that this can’t end in a way that is not embarrassing and uncomfortable for everyone. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rachel Berry, Kurt’s roommate.” However, Blaine takes her hand without fear, shaking it soundly before reclaiming his hand.

“I’m Blaine. Nice to meet you, Rachel.” He says politely, smiling towards Kurt at the last second before Rachel starts up again and his eyes dart back towards her.

“So Blaine, how do you know Kurt?” Rachel presses on.

“He’s a friend, Rachel.” Kurt cuts in before Blaine can respond. As much as he likes Blaine, he isn’t so sure he trusts him just yet, and he hopes that Blaine will play along.

Blaine nods, whisking an unlit cigarette from behind his ear and twirling it between his fingers smoothly. “Yeah, sort of pure happenstance, really. He helped me out in a bind a while ago. Still have yet to repay him for that.” His eyes shift to Kurt as he finishes speaking, raising a sharp eyebrow at him that holds a little too much implication for Kurt to not squirm a bit—and not send some blood rushing south as well.

“Well, it was a random act of kindness, and there really is no need to repay me, Blaine.” Kurt assures, a touch of anxiety stirring in his chest leaving him wondering whether Blaine actually expects Kurt to put out as a reward. He ousts that thought as quickly as he can, however, remembering that when he had propositioned Kurt the first time, how quickly Blaine had retracted when Kurt refused him. If Kurt knew anything about Blaine, it was that he would never force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do.

“Maybe, but you deserve it.” Blaine says, placing a gentle hand on his bicep. Kurt takes in a breath, locking eyes with Blaine for just a moment too long.

“I’ll meet you at home, ok Kurt?” Rachel pipes up, breaking their eye contact as they both turn to her.

“Oh, no, Rachel you don’t…I’ll go with you.” Kurt panics slightly.

“No, you guys catch up! I’ll see you later, boo.” And before Kurt can protest again, she’s heading down the street like a bullet out of a gun and lost in the crowds in moments. Damn her. He knows that Rachel knows he hasn’t been laid in over a month, and this is just her way of urging him forward with it.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” Blaine says, slipping the cigarette back behind his ear.

Kurt nods, glancing at the crowd once more before returning his eyes to Blaine. “Comes on a little strong sometimes. This was actually impressive for Rachel.”

“She’s…spirited.” Blaine smirks, crossing a leg over the other and propping the toe of his boot on the sidewalk. Kurt laughs in agreement, muttering a “yeah” before a silence falls between them for a few seconds. The milieu of people rushing back and forth in front of them makes Kurt just a little nervous, wondering if they think he’s actually trying to pick Blaine up. He knows he shouldn’t be self-conscious about that; Blaine is nice and he’s been nothing but gracious to Kurt. He figures, if they keep bumping into each other, he’ll have to get over it. Blaine does what he does, and Kurt can learn to roll with it.

Blaine breaks the silence suddenly. “You look good, Kurt.”

Kurt blushes, taking in Blaine’s broad smile and his genuine expression. It makes something flip in his stomach, being complimented by someone as handsome as Blaine. “Thank you. You too. You’re rather stunning in that jacket.”

“Well, I try.” Blaine says with faux-haughtiness, lifting his chin with it.

Kurt chuckles, and Blaine laughs as well, his eyes bright and almost sparkling, Kurt can’t help but notice. Blaine’s eyes always sparkle. “Have you um…had anyone…today?” Kurt asks, trying for conversational, but he’s not sure if it comes off that way.

“Uh, no, not yet.” Blaine confirms, “Tuesdays are usually slower.”

Kurt hums his understanding, and he can’t help but feel the awkward tension (none of which is sexual at all, of course not) settling down between them. He’s not sure if Blaine feels it as well—he is pretty shameless—but it’s making Kurt increasingly uncomfortable. “Well that’s…unfortunate?” Kurt tries, not sure how to comment on a prostitute not getting any hits.

Blaine shrugs with a smile. “All part of the job. You know, waiting in the dark for the men in business suits with mediocre cocks.”

Kurt is about to respond when a third voice breaks through their conversation. “I take offense to that ‘mediocre cocks’ bit, B.”

They both turn, and Kurt can see Blaine’s face light up a bit at the tall, thin, handsome man in one of said business suits approaching them. “Sebastian! Hey, good looking.” Blaine chirps flirtatiously, as Sebastian plants a kiss on Blaine’s lips.

Sebastian grins at Blaine before his gaze turns to Kurt, and there is no doubt that he is measuring him up, his eyes hovering up and down his body. Kurt’s cheeks redden, his hand flying to the back of his head and scratching nervously.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, shifting his eyes to Blaine. “Am I too late? Did I interrupt a business transaction?”

Blaine answers readily, almost too readily for Kurt’s liking. “No! No, Kurt is just a friend, Bas. We were just catching up. I’m all yours if you want me.” He says with a smirk, reaching out and running his fingers nimbly down Sebastian’s tie before grasping it.

Kurt can feel his cheeks burning, some ghastly combination of embarrassment and resentment for this stranger whom Blaine is practically throwing himself at. Kurt can tell, he can just tell that Sebastian is a sleazebag. The way he’s looking at Blaine like something he can devour…it makes Kurt upset in a way he can’t really explain. Blaine deserves someone better, someone who will respect him. Not that Kurt would ever want to provide that, he’s just a friend. But it’s a friend’s responsibility to look out for their friends, right?

Kurt pulls himself back into focus, witnessing Sebastian’s hands slithering around Blaine’s waist, definitely going for his ass, and whispering things in Blaine’s ear that are making Blaine blush scarlet. It makes something in Kurt flare up.

He sees Sebastian gripping Blaine’s plump ass, and Blaine squeals, “Hey! You know the rules, Smythe. No touching the goods before payment.” Sebastian retracts, raising his hands in surrender with a smile. Kurt feels a weird sense of pride at Blaine defending himself. Then again, this is Blaine’s job. He knows how to get what he wants, and that makes Kurt feel a little bit better.

“But you’re still up for my taking, though, baby?” Sebastian asks, slipping his fingers into Blaine’s belt loops and pulling him forward.

Blaine hums affirmatively, “Yes, sir.” Blaine tears his eyes from Sebastian toward Kurt with a smile. “Look, I hate to cut this short, but…”

“No, no, I understand. I’ll catch up with you later, Blaine.” Kurt forces an encouraging smile, turning to leave.

“Promise you’ll call, though.” Blaine insists, calling over his shoulder, and Kurt turns to see an expectant look on Blaine’s face, like he really means it. “We should hang out sometime.”

Kurt grins again, “Promise.” Kurt casts his eyes to Sebastian, whose eyes are roving over Blaine’s body unashamedly. “Have fun.” Kurt says, a barely detectable bitterness creeping into his words.

Blaine bites his lip briefly, nodding. “See you later, Kurt.”

Kurt nods with a strained smile, before turning back around and heading towards his apartment, restraining himself from marching back there and throwing Sebastian off Blaine, warning him not to ever touch him like he was so lustfully. Kurt barely even knows Blaine, but all Kurt can think of is how nice a person Blaine seems to be, and how he doesn’t deserve to be slobbered all over by pigs. For the life of him, he can’t understand how Blaine actually likes living like this.

Kurt forces himself to accept the fact that he doesn’t actually know Blaine. He hardly knows anything about him, so he doesn’t have the right to judge or recreate his life for him. So he keeps walking.

~*~

  
“Oh god, Bas. I swear you’re one of the only guys I’ve been with that actually knows how to fuck.” Blaine pants, flopping onto his back and into the sheets, feeling them billow up around him as he lands. Sweat dots his temples and his own come is spread across his stomach, and Blaine really couldn’t feel more sated.

Sebastian’s been a customer of his for the past couple years, and they had shared an instant connection. Blaine had felt an insatiable pull towards the man, who only had a few years on Blaine—Sebastian was in his early thirties, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t really turn him on. Usually age didn’t faze him, but on Sebastian it was…magnificent. Sexy as hell. Everything about Bas was sexy, really. And he liked Blaine. Not just as a whore, but as a person. Everything said or done between them bounced off each other seamlessly and beautifully, and Blaine is loath to admit that he’s had a crush on him for quite some time. But Blaine doesn’t date people who have been clients. Well, he really hasn’t dated period since he came to New York, hasn’t felt the need. Sebastian was different.

Different was so…different for Blaine. Blaine really liked different. Kurt was different. Kurt was…beautiful. He was polite and caring and just that side of sassy and—but no, Kurt doesn’t want him. That much was glaringly obvious for Blaine. There’s a certain amount of Kurt that is actually disgusted by him, and from the way Kurt had pushed him away, he made it abundantly clear how he felt about sex workers. For once, a guy doesn’t want him. That was different.

Blaine wipes his mind clear of Kurt, bringing himself back to the reality that he is sharing a very nice bed with glaringly expensive sheets with a gorgeous man that just fucked him into another dimension and who is actually interested in him.

Sebastian chuckles next to him, reaching a hand over and scooping up some of Blaine’s come onto his finger. “Well it helps to be fucking someone as effortlessly sexy as you.” Sebastian says, pressing his finger to Blaine’s lips before he eagerly opens them, sucking Sebastian’s finger—and his own come—into his mouth. Blaine’s eyes drift closed with contentment, working Sebastian’s finger like a pacifier between his lips and wrapping his tongue around it to get every drop of himself off of Sebastian.

When the finger is pulled from his mouth, he smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to Sebastian’s lips. “You flatter, sir.” Blaine remains nonchalant in his response, but inside butterflies flurry around restlessly.

“I tell the truth.” Sebastian points out, lifting himself and straddling Blaine’s form, his hands placed on either side of his head. “If I could, I’d just have you to myself all the time.”

“What, be your charming little house-husband, sucking your dick after a long day’s work?” Blaine suggests, only half joking.

“Mmm, yeah. Wearing nothing but a tiny little apron, unless I told you otherwise.”

“Pay me well enough, maybe we could arrange that.” Blaine whispers, letting his eyes drift down to Sebastian’s half-hard cock hanging down between them.

Sebastian’s lips slip down to Blaine’s ear, the tip of his tongue tracing delicately along the curves of it. “We both know money is no object for me. You’re in my bed at least once a week with my cock up your ass. That’s not exactly cheap.”

Blaine laughs softly, pulling Sebastian’s lips onto his again and sucking his tongue into his mouth. “I can’t afford to be cheap.” Blaine mutters.

With that, he slides down the bed from between Sebastian’s limbs, kissing the head of his dangling cock as he comes to it. He reaches immediately for his underwear, pulling them on as he stands on the floor. Sebastian spins around, getting up on his knees and maneuvering toward Blaine at the edge of the bed.

“Don’t leave yet.” Sebastian pouts, placing his hands on Blaine’s sharp hipbones.

Blaine rolls his eyes, containing the squeal wanting to form in his throat, “I have to. Gotta get back out there. Money to make, people to fuck.”

“What if I paid you an extra hundred?” Sebastian offers.

Blaine’s eyebrow darts up in intrigue and uncontrollable excitement. “Then I might reconsider.”

Sebastian smirks, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of Blaine’s boxer-briefs and sliding them down his thighs till they drop onto the floor and Blaine steps out of them.

Blaine smiles, climbs back up on the bed and allowing himself to be pulled into Sebastian’s arms and feel his tongue licking patterns on his neck. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Smythe.”

Sebastian bites his neck lightly, growling in his ear. “Oh baby, you know that’s not the only thing I drive hard.”

And yeah, Blaine definitely knows.

***

The next time Blaine hears from Kurt, it’s at about noon, and Blaine is stretched out on the couch recovering from a particularly hard fuck from some middle-aged closet case who had just had a fight with his wife and thought to take it out on Blaine. It wasn’t bad, per se, it was just intense and Blaine’s ass was definitely feeling it morning-after. He hears the trilling of his phone on the coffee table next to the couch and he swipes it up with his hand, scrunching his eyebrows when he doesn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Blaine? It’s Kurt.”

Kurt didn’t even have to say his own name. Blaine would have known it was him the second he spoke. His voice is unique and beautiful and one that he’s heard in his head a couple times while he’s taking a shitty pounding to help him come. Not that he’d ever admit that to Kurt. That was crossing a line. But what Kurt didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hey Kurt! You called!” And maybe Blaine sounds a little bit too excited, but he lets himself indulge.

Kurt laughs softly on the other end, and it sounds heavenly. “Yeah, I, um, I’m out for lunch and I was wondering if you were free. I mean, I don’t know what you do with your day time, so I figured I’d just check if you…” Kurt is babbling just a little bit, and Blaine finds it adorable. Blaine doesn’t let himself analyze exactly why he would be babbling, probably because he’s second-guessing calling him in the first place and realizing how stupid he was to call a prostitute to hang out. Blaine is proud of his job, but he’s not dumb. He knows what people think about him and he knows it makes some people fidgety. Kurt just happens to be one of those people, and he can’t help that.

Then again, he is making the effort to seek Blaine out, and that gives him just a little smidge of hope.

“No, Kurt, you’re fine. I am completely free right now. I’m just being a lazy ass in my apartment.”

“Ok, cool. Would you like to go grab lunch with me?”

Blaine grins, biting his lip hard to keep himself from giggling. “Yes, I’d love to. That sounds awesome.” He feels absolutely ridiculous pining for Kurt this way, but something about Kurt makes him giddy. He should know better than to get his hopes up, but he does anyway.

“I was thinking that little café on Fifth. Uh, Julie’s I think it’s called? Do you wanna meet me there?”

“Yeah, yeah I know where that is. Give me, like, twenty minutes?”

“Sure thing. See you in a few.”

“Yeah, see you, Kurt.”

The line goes dead, and he sinks just a little lower into the couch, holding the phone to his heart and smiling like a maniac. He knows they’re just friends. He knows this is just a friendly lunch outing. He knows that Kurt doesn’t like him like Blaine is beginning to (shit, already does). Regardless, he leaps up from the couch and rushes into the bathroom, planning out what he’s going to wear as he takes the shortest shower he can manage and taming his curls, all while trying not to freak out too much.

Kurt is just a guy. But Blaine thinks he’s so, so much more than that. And he just wants to find that out for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

“So you really have no problem getting it on with a bunch of old men?”

 

Blaine smiles, highly amused, and Kurt’s expression is still a bit put off. Blaine’s job seems to be a frequent topic of conversation between them, and Blaine doesn’t seem to mind. He actually seems kind of excited to be able to talk about it with Kurt, which is good because he has an endless flow of questions for Blaine.

 

This isn’t the first time they’ve chatted over coffee—it’s actually more the fifth or sixth give or take—but there’s so much Kurt wants to know. He likes spending time with Blaine and he likes getting inside the head of the man he had only met a couple months ago, huddled in a ball and crying like his world was ending. Kurt had been so scared, but he’s never been more appreciative of his sporadic sympathy kicks, since they lead him to Blaine.

 

Blaine who may not have a normal nine to five job, but is still one of the sweetest guys that Kurt has ever met. He’s a perfect gentleman, which is something that Kurt would never had suspected from a prostitute, but Kurt is quickly learning that just because Blaine likes having sex doesn’t make him a terrible person. He’s always told himself not to judge others, but in the past he always figured it was their fault for giving off such an aura. They created the image that made it so easy to judge them. However, the closer Kurt gets to Blaine, the faster every assumption he had ever made about sex workers flies out the window.

 

He realizes how stupid he was to ever hold anyone to what they wear or what you assume they do. Blaine is kind and funny and he loves musicals and watching America’s Next Top Model and screaming obnoxiously loud at the television during football games (or so Blaine has told him). He has a hell of a time managing his hair, which is prone to ungodly amounts of frizz if he doesn’t treat it properly every day. He has plump, gorgeous lips that Kurt gets distracted by while Blaine goes on about how much he adores Nicole Kidman in Australia which was only outdone by her performance in Moulin Rouge.

 

And he has the most gorgeous eyes that Kurt has ever seen on another human being.

 

“Older guys don’t bug me so much. It can actually be pretty hot, depending.” Blaine says, absently trailing a finger around the lid of his medium drip. “Besides, older guys break the bank. You probably wouldn’t be surprised at how many older men would pay through the dick for a young buck fuck like me.”

 

“Yeah?” Kurt asks, a little baffled. “Well I can’t exactly blame them, to be honest.”

 

Blaine raises a palm to his cheek and the other over his heart. “Oh, Mr. Hummel, you’re making me blush!”

 

“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t play your looks as often as you can. I know you better than that, Blaine _Swallows_.” Kurt jokes, emphasizing the heinous name that Blaine has put in his phone.

 

“Ok, you got me there.” Blaine admits with a bright, toothy grin, hamming it up just a little bit to accentuate his point.

 

It makes Kurt burst out laughing and nearly knock over his half-full cup of probably cold coffee. “You underestimate me.”

 

Blaine shakes his head, “No, I don’t actually. I am fully aware of your capabilities. And I can tell you without an inch of doubt that you would be a Class A hooker, Kurt Hummel.”

 

Kurt blows him off, waving his hand. “Bullshit.”

 

“No, I’m serious! You’re fucking hot. I told you that the first time I met you. Besides, your voice is so…seductive.” Blaine croons, sliding his hand across the table to tickle the back of Kurt’s hand with the tip of his finger. “It’s like fucking velvet on toast mixed with nutella.”

 

Little sparks shoot up Kurt’s arm and through his veins as Blaine caresses his skin, and he should be used to this by now, but he’s not. Blaine and he have become very comfortable with each other very fast. Almost too comfortable. In fact, they’re so comfortable that Kurt isn’t even sure where they stand right now in their friendship. They tease each other, both with words and with lingering touches, but they’ve never actually _done_ anything. The most they’ve done is a couple friendly kisses on the cheek. And as much as Kurt feels he shouldn’t do anymore more with Blaine, he _wants_ it. And he’s almost positive Blaine does too. But they’ve never actually said anything about their progression of affection.

 

It started with just simple touches, like Blaine grasping his arm or Kurt bumping his shoulder playfully. And somewhere within the past few weeks it’s advanced to stroking each other and challenging, heated stare-downs and sexual innuendos. He’s not sure where it came from or how it developed, but Kurt likes it. He likes it a lot.

 

“Oh _god_.” Kurt moans, retracting his hand from Blaine and rubbing over his face. “Now I _know_ you’re joking.”

 

Blaine raises an open palm in the air. “I cannot tell a lie, Kurt.”

 

Kurt snorts, “Oh please, how many guys have you told lies to? ‘Oh baby, your cock is so big!’ ‘Oh, you fuck me so good!’ Puh- _lease_.”

 

Kurt thinks he sees something flash in Blaine’s eyes as Kurt mimics the probably countless men that Blaine has said those very things to, but it’s gone in less than a second as he narrows his eyes. “Ok, you got me again.”

 

Leaning forward a bit, Kurt hisses smoothly with a little playful heat, “Underestimating.”

 

Blaine leans forward too, and Kurt recognizes late how close their lips are at that moment, attempting to keep his breathing steady as he watches Blaine’s eyes flicker from his lips back up to his eyes. “I wouldn’t dare.” He whispers, and Kurt feels it all the way down to his fucking cock.

 

Kurt swallows, lighting a fire in his eyes as he responds as casually as he can. “You shouldn’t. Because I would whip your ass.”

 

“Mmm,” Blaine hums, quirking an eyebrow with a filthy smirk, “Kinky boy.”

 

“You wish.” Kurt lets drift to Blaine before withdrawing, pressing his spine straight along the back of the chair. And just like that, the fire between them is gone, and they get swept away in conversations of _Gypsy_ and skin care.

 

~*~

 

There is no mistaking the shift that has happened between Blaine and Kurt within the past few weeks. Kurt is coming out of his shell, it seems. Blaine thought he liked Kurt before, but he _really_ likes _this_ Kurt that he’s come to know and flirt with incessantly. He is encased in the feeling that he’s met his match in regards to pretty much everything in his life, aside from the frequent occupational sex. But one thing Blaine is sure about is that Kurt hadn’t been joking that first night when he said he was comfortable sex. Kurt is right at home with Blaine’s raunchy banter and knows how to throw it right back in his face. Every conversation has the potential to become a sexual chess match, and Blaine is just waiting for one of them to call “checkmate” before all hell breaks loose between them (or, more appropriately, between their dicks).

 

Blaine had been wrong about Kurt. Or if he hadn’t been wrong, then Kurt wasn’t the same person as when he had first met him. Something had changed in his vision of Blaine. He used to be scared that Kurt would never want someone like him, but it turns out that Kurt was _very_ much interested in him. It made Blaine a little giddy and a lot horny to a ridiculous point. Like, jacking off to his face and crying out his name, ridiculous.

 

The way Kurt springs things on him that he would never expect him to say so casually, like about “how well you must take it up the ass, Blaine” or how thinking about whatever “makes my cock so hard, god”… it makes Blaine go crazy. He’s always been prone to dirty talk, but the fact that it’s not really _meant_ to be dirty talk really gets him off. The fact that Kurt is just being honest with Blaine, and possibly trying to get a rise out of him (literally) just makes Blaine want him more.

 

He wants more than just the banter and the touching and the glances. He wants _Kurt_. All of him. Every fucking inch of his body, his mind, his soul. He wants to fall apart underneath him and ride him until his legs give out. He wants to tie him to a bed and fuck him until he begs for mercy. He wants to take him to nice dinners and blow him in the bathroom stalls and fall asleep on the couch watching NCIS marathons and make him breakfast in the mornings with Kurt’s chin draped over his shoulder.

 

It mortifies Blaine, how much he wants him. Because he knows he can’t have him, not with the life he leads. Not while he lets anyone who wants him, have him, if they have the right price. But god, Blaine can dream. And he dreams a lot. Like they’re a remastered 20s classic in dazzling Technicolor.

 

“You seem very pensive.”

 

Blaine jerks his head over, where Sebastian is lounging on his side, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Blaine loves the way Bas looks with a cigarette—it’s so fifties chic. Them both sharing a smoke in bed after a nice fuck, it’s very picturesque.

 

Blaine gives a brief shrug, taking a drag from his own light. “Got a lot on my mind lately.” _Got a guy on my mind lately_ , He thinks. He plants his foot up on the bed as he leans over to Sebastian, taking his mouth with his. He tastes strongly of wet smoke with a little vodka and the deep, husky taste he’s come to know as Bas. Sebastian hums into the kiss, caressing Blaine’s tongue with his as they exchange tastes for a while.

 

Blaine does like kissing Sebastian. He isn’t afraid to take what he wants, and Blaine loves being under Sebastian’s power. He’s the guy that knows Blaine the best sexually, having been with him dozens upon dozens of times. It helps that Sebastian has been phenomenal at sex since the very start. He wasn’t married, since he’s known he was gay from a very young age, but Blaine knows he’s never been quite the one who has thought of settling down. Until he fell into bed with Blaine. And now he can’t help but think that Sebastian is thinking about taking and _keeping_ Blaine home with him more and more. That used to bring excitement and anticipation into Blaine’s heart.

 

Until Kurt.

 

Kurt messed _everything_ up, in the best way possible. And now, as much as he likes Sebastian, he’s stopped thinking about him. Now it’s Kurt that is on his mind when he gets off. It’s him he imagines when he pictures himself settling down with a nice man with maybe a kid or two. And Sebastian can still tease Blaine about wanting him to be his house husband, stroking each other off in the bathtub after Sebastian gets home from work, that’s all well and good. But all Blaine wants since Kurt is…Kurt.

 

 When they pull away from the kiss, Sebastian presses the end of his cigarette to Blaine’s lips, and he slips it inside, inhaling the potent smoke and holding it in his throat as Sebastian pulls the cigarette out again, taking his own drag. Lifting his other hand, Sebastian frames Blaine’s face and pulls him close, placing his open mouth onto Blaine’s. Blaine sighs contentedly, feeling the crisp burn of the smoke flow between their mouths as their tongues tangle together playfully. Breathing out the smoke from the corners of their mouths, Sebastian plucks the half-smoked light from Blaine’s fingers along with his own and reaches back to lay them across the ash tray on the bedside table.

 

A moment later, Bas has a leg between Blaine’s, and is kissing him for all he’s worth as his hand drifts down to Blaine’s softened cock. He moans into this kiss as a hand wraps around him and begins stroking him to hardness again. Sebastian breaks the kiss suddenly, and shifts down the length of Blaine’s body with a seductive glint in his eyes, until he’s level with Blaine’s cock.

 

“How about I help you to forget for a while?” Sebastian offers, staring up at Blaine from under his eyelashes with a look of pure sex that sends Blaine reeling. Blaine reaches a hand down into Sebastian’s hair, guiding his lips down to where Blaine is beginning to grow. A slick, wet heat slides over the length of him, and Blaine sighs again, his head hitting the pillows beneath him.

 

“Alright, Bas. But just this once.”

 

***

Blaine’s taking a night off, curled up on Kurt’s futon with Kurt pressed against his side as they watch some stupid chick flick on Hallmark, entertaining themselves by making snide remarks about the stupidity of the characters and critiquing the sexual abilities of the actors on screen.

 

“He has a small cock.”

 

Kurt scoffs, looking over at Blaine. “How the hell do you know?”

 

Blaine gesticulates toward the guy on screen with wide eyes. “You can just tell! I’ve been with enough guys to tell when they’re compensating, and that guy is Texas in the head and Rhode Island in the bed.”

 

Kurt bursts out laughing, clutching Blaine’s arm with it. Blaine chuckles along as Kurt’s face presses into his chest, shaking with mirth. “God, I’m sorry, that was hysterical.” Kurt breathes out, wiping a tear from his eye as he composes himself.

 

“I’m glad you’re amused.” Blaine laughs, knocking his shoulder against Kurt’s playfully.

 

“I just think you’re ridiculous, really. Bullshit you know the size of that guy’s cock.”

 

“I bet I could guess yours.” Blaine challenges, raising an eyebrow in intimidation. He isn’t sure why he says it. It’s crossing a line somewhere, admitting that Blaine has thought about Kurt’s dick. Thought about the size of it, the feel of it, and every tiny little detail about it. He would back off, but Kurt isn’t, and that just encourages him.

 

“Oh, I’d _love_ to see you try.” Kurt says low, shifting onto his knees to face Blaine fully.

 

Blaine smirks, eyeing Kurt up and down, and Kurt is really at a disadvantage here. Blaine _does_ have a gift for this, and Kurt is even more unlucky because he has no idea how much time Blaine actually spends thinking about Kurt’s cock.

 

Kurt looks unphased however, leaning forward on his palms and staring at Blaine while he makes his final calculations. Blaine’s lips twitch before he makes his move. “Six and a half, almost seven inches, about five thick. You’re a big boy, Mr. Hummel.”

 

Kurt’s eyes bulge the slightest bit, reeling back. “Who the fuck are you? Some sort of psychic? Have you been creeping on me in my bedroom?”

 

Blaine shakes his head adamantly with a triumphant grin. “I have a gift, and you underestimated it. What was that you keep saying about _me_ underestimating _you_?”

 

Kurt glares, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine. Let me guess yours, then.”

 

“Be my guest.” Blaine says, dropping his jean-clad legs onto the ground and spreading them open.

 

Kurt stares at his crotch pointedly, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration before coming up with an answer. “Six inches long, three and a half thick.” Kurt’s eyes flick up to Blaine’s, where undeniable amusement is present.

 

Blaine shakes his head with a wide grin still in place. “Sorry Hummel.”

 

“I don’t believe you. What are you really, then?”

 

Blaine runs his tongue along the top row of his teeth, smirking. “Why ask me? You could see for yourself.”

 

“You just wanna show me your dick.” Kurt snarks, rolling his eyes.

 

“Hey, it’s a nice dick. I like my dick.” Blaine says proudly, cupping his crotch with his hand.

 

“I’m sure it’s a lovely dick, dear. But you’re probably a grower and it wouldn’t do me any good to see you soft.” Kurt says flippantly, slipping his legs out from under him and bending them to the side.

 

“You’re right about the grower, part.” Blaine says, pointing his finger at him. “Good job.”

 

“I’ve seen my share of cocks, Mr. Anderson. I do have some knowledge.”

 

“I don’t doubt you do. But the fact that you underestimated my length AND thickness by at least two and a half inches collectively is almost unforgivable.”

 

“Oh, my apologies, your majesty.” Kurt says, the sarcasm blatantly clear in his tone.

 

“You really should be sorry.” Blaine jokes. “And maybe one day you’ll get your solid proof.” Blaine whispers, and he’s well aware how enticing it sounds, and how the blush rises in Kurt’s cheeks after he says it. And he thinks if this conversation goes any further then Kurt won’t have to wait more than a couple minutes to see _exactly_ what Blaine is talking about.

 

~*~

“He guessed my _dick size,_ Rachel!” Kurt says in a rush, tugging the box of tea bags out of the cupboard and slamming them harder than intended on the counter. “And he was _right_.”

 

Rachel blows on her tea with wide eyes, staring at Kurt. “Oh honey, he wants you.”

 

Kurt huffs, dropping a tea bag into his mug and watching it seep in the water. “He’s a flirt, Rachel. That’s just how he is.”

 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns his head toward Rachel. “Kurt, do you really think he would get it right if he hasn’t been actually _thinking_ about your…on a regular basis?” She says, urging her face forward in place of the word to specify.

 

Kurt turns fully around with his mug in hand, leaning against the counter. “He’s slept with enough guys he’s never met. There’s a definite possibility.”

 

Rachel takes a sip from her mug, not moving her eyes from Kurt’s as she does.

 

“Don’t look at me like that, Rach.”

 

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Rachel says, in a way that bluntly indicates the opposite.

 

Kurt loves Rachel, mostly because she tells things like they are in her own twisted way. Kurt just doesn’t want to believe that Blaine likes him. Blaine is highly skilled in the act of seduction, and the last thing Kurt wants to do is fall prey to it if Blaine doesn’t actually intend to follow through with anything. He’s kept his walls up for a long time, and one stupid, stupid boy isn’t going to bring them down. Even if he _does_ probably have a big dick.

 

He doesn’t mean to, but he yells, “He doesn’t like me, Rachel!” And he threatens her to argue the opposite.

 

Rachel shrugs, spinning around and walking out of the kitchen. “I’m sure he doesn’t, Boo.”

 

No, he’s changed his mind. He hates Rachel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there IS brief harassment and slut-shaming, so pay heed. Also this is where the NC-17 gets started, so, note that as well.

They’re walking down the street, where they’re heading back to Kurt’s apartment for some trashy television and hot chocolate, chatting animatedly about the film adaptation of Rent as they go. Talking to Blaine is so easy, like breathing. There’s nothing forced and nothing expected, at least not anymore. Kurt doesn’t flinch at the mention of Blaine’s activities; in fact he is rather intrigued by most of them. He has hilarious stories to tell, and Kurt is eager to listen. If he pops a little something down south while lending an ear, he counts it as a natural reaction to talking about dicks. Nothing at all having to do with it being Blaine and dicks.

Kurt could see the predatory gaze a mile away as a sleazy guy in a windbreaker with a soul patch on his chin walks straight for them. Kurt can’t help it. He tenses up. Blaine’s head whips around to Kurt, noticing his twitch in movement, a look of concern on his face. It’s clear Blaine hadn’t spotted the man who was almost in front of them, because his face is wrinkled with confusion. “Kurt? Are you alright?”

He discovers very quickly the cause of Kurt’s shift. Or, the man himself makes himself discoverable.

"Hey sexy."

Blaine turns his head toward the man, throwing out a half-hearted smile to Kurt as soon as he hears the voice, almost like an apology. "Hey. How's it going?" Blaine says conversationally.

The man looks far too cocky, far too forward, and it shows on his pointy face. “I’ve seen you. On the street.”

Blaine uncomfortably scratches the back of his neck, switching his gaze from Kurt back to the man in front of him. “Yeah, that’d probably be me."

The man takes a step toward Blaine, and he takes a half-step back. It doesn’t seem like the man likes it, judging by his expression. But he smiles, a truly disgusting smile, as he rakes his eyes up and down Blaine’s body ostentatiously. "Are you up for grabs, baby?"

That pisses Kurt off. And it’s not even just that this man is treating Blaine like something to take off a shelf. This asshole hasn’t even acknowledged Kurt’s presence since he slithered his way over to them—not that he would want to be under the scrutiny of this ingrate, but the fact that he doesn’t even give a shit that he’s _with someone_ sets Kurt off. He reminds himself that Blaine can handle it, that he has dozens of times. He’s not a child, he knows how to deal with grease bags like this.

"Um...I...no. I'm off the books till 7 tonight." Blaine informs the man.

The man continues smiling. "Any chance I could make a reservation? Or change your mind?"

Blaine looks to Kurt, then back to the man again, looking a bit haggard like Kurt had never seen before. Almost as if he was exhausted of this whole two-part life he’s been leading. Kurt knows that Blaine likes what he does, but Blaine must get a little tired sometimes. Blaine’s harried feelings are audible in his words. "I...no, sorry. I'm...just a regular guy right now. But if you come by my corner after seven we'll see."

The man rolls his eyes, rocking back onto his heels briefly before leaning forward. "Aw, come on, baby--" he whines, clutching at the lapel of Blaine's pea coat, and that was the final straw. Kurt smacks the man's hand down with all the strength he can gather, moving himself in between the man and Blaine, with a murderous glare.  "He said no.” Kurt growls out. “Now back off, buddy."

The man snatches his hand back angrily, his lips twitching open to expose clenched teeth. “Who the fuck are you?”

Blaine places a hand on his shoulder, protesting, "Kurt, I can--"

Kurt ignores Blaine, jerking his shoulder to shake off Blaine’s hand. “Who I am is someone you didn’t give a fuck about until I got in the way of your dick. And who I am is someone telling you to walk. the fuck. away.” Kurt spits out, looking on the man with contempt.

"Whatever, man. Fucking forget you then.” The man glares at Blaine one more time, then starts heading past them, banging Blaine’s shoulder hard as he goes. Kurt hears him mutter, “Fucking whore..." as he passes. Blaine’s eyes fall closed at the words that he obviously hears loud and clear, his face crumpling the slightest bit.

Kurt wheels around. "Hey! You don't talk to him like that!"

The man halts, jerking his head back toward them, curling his lip sadistically.

Blaine grips Kurt’s arm this time, trying to calm him. "Kurt, don't worry about--"

He’s interrupted by the man spitting out more words. "He's a fucking. worthless. whore." He sneers with a cruel smile.

Kurt pounces, but is hauled back by Blaine. Nevertheless he feebly struggles as he yells. "Fuck you! He's a person just like everyone else! Except maybe you, because you can’t be anything more than a ragged bitch in heat!"

The man just snorts and flips them off from behind, sulking across the crosswalk and gripping the ends of his jacket a little too tight. 

Kurt fumes, finally settling down without Blaine’s grip on him.

"Kurt, chill out. You didn't have to do that. I can handle myself."

Kurt takes a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the disappearing man to look at Blaine, who shows no signs that the past few minutes even transpired.

Kurt nods, placing his palm to his forehead as he breathes to cool down. "I know I just...lost control.” He drops his hand from his face, and drapes it over Blaine’s shoulder, looking him in the eye, where he can see a little bit of anxiety lingering. “The way he was talking to you...I'm sorry."

Blaine shakes his head adamantly, bringing the corners of his lips up into a smile. "I’m pretty used to it. But…thank you. That's the second time you've done that."

Kurt scrunches his eyebrows. "Done what?"

"Made me feel worth something."

Kurt feels like his heart drops into his stomach and he knows tears are burning his eyes. He just breaks out into a smile, begging them not to spill over. He finds his hand reaching up to stroke his thumb over Blaine’s pink-tinted cheek. "Well I should hope I do that every day. Otherwise I'm not a very good friend."

Blaine’s eyes drift closed again, but this time with a lot more comfort, probably taking in the gentle motions of Kurt’s thumb. His face is lax and colored with winter chill, his full lips tilted in a soft smile that makes Kurt’s heart leap embarrassingly. And Kurt _really_ wants to kiss him right now. But that would be a mistake.

Blaine lifts open his eyes to look at Kurt in a fond way that only increases Kurt’s want, and he slides his hand up to clasp Kurt’s waist lightly. "You do. But only a couple times have you made a point to prove it to me.” 

Kurt’s mind falls back to the first night they met, how eagerly and sincerely Blaine had thanked him then. He’s never really put much thought into how much that really meant to Blaine, but Kurt is slowly finding out. “Well maybe I’ll have to change that.” 

~*~

“What’s up, bro? You not slutting it up today?”

Blaine tilts his head up from the arm of the couch enough to see Sam looming over him with a can of soda in his hand. “It’s not slutting if I’m making money from it. How many times do I have to tell you? I feel like you should know that, Strippy.” Sam smiles, rustling Blaine’s curls a bit with his free hand until Blaine slaps it away.

Then Blaine sighs, raising an open palm in a sign of _I don’t know_ and letting his hand fall back onto his pant leg with a muffled smack. Blaine explains, “There was a bit of an altercation when I was with Kurt earlier today and it’s making me feel weird about working tonight.”

“Oh dude,” Sam says, sounding worried. He swings over the back of the couch to sit near Blaine’s feet and sets his soda on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Did you and Kurt have a fight? I thought you guys were, like, soul mates?”

Blaine props himself up with two hands to sit up. “No, _we_ didn’t have a fight. Kurt and someone _else_ had a fight.” Sam’s face still shows confusion, so Blaine elaborates. “Someone propositioned me, and Kurt got a little defensive when he wouldn’t back off.”

“Who was it? That Sebastian guy?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t know him. Just some scumbag.”

“And Kurt went after him?”

Blaine lets out a chuckle. “Almost literally. I had to hold him back.”

Sam shakes his head and pats Blaine’s leg. “Damn. He’s got it bad, doesn’t he?”

Blaine drops his head back to the arm of the couch, shrugging. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Blaine.” He says it sternly, staring at Blaine with an intensity that he only ever sees from Sam either when he’s kicking ass at Halo or when he’s trying to convince Blaine of something that Sam is absolutely sure.

“What?” Blaine grumbles, allowing one of his legs to fall off the couch and hang there.

Sam leans forward, pressing a hand down on Blaine’s calf and the other on the cushion next to it as he stares Blaine down. “Blaine, I’m going to put this in your common tongue, ok? He wants you to choke on his cock.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Sam.” He grabs for the remote on the coffee table, but before he can switch on the TV, Sam is swiping it out of his hand.

“Dude!” Blaine huffs, not exactly sure why he’s getting so riled up. He lunges for the remote, but Sam dangles it off the far end of the couch. “Fine!” Blaine shouts, sitting up on the couch. “What do you want me to say to that, Sam? That I’m about to go and suck his dick because you said so? Kurt’s become one of my best friends. We’ve _never_ fucked. Not even come close.”

“Yeah, but you’re both practically clawing each other’s clothes off every time you’re together! I’ve seen you two interact, and each time I wonder how you even manage to keep your clothes on.”

Blaine scoffs, swinging his feet down to the floor and heaving himself off the couch. “I need a drink.”

“Yeah, that’ll _definitely_ help you keep your clothes on, Drunky McSlutboy.” Sam jabs, taking advantage of the open couch and lounging onto it while pressing the power button on the TV remote.

“I’m disowning you as a roommate _and_ best friend, Evans.” Blaine says without turning his head, yanking open the fridge and pulling out a beer from the fridge.

“Fine. But I’m stealing back my batman underwear you took from me forever ago.” Sam counters.

Blaine smirks, peeking his head around the corner. “Sammy, do you really want them back after all I’ve done in them? All I’ve _put_ in them?”

Sam scrunches up his face in repulsion. “Oh, that’s _sick_ , bro.”

Blaine winks playfully at him, “Didn’t think so, big boy.” 

***

A week later, when he’s lying on his bed alone, having headed home from his last fuck of the night about half an hour ago, he reaches for his phone. It’s three AM, and he’s still horny, but he wasn’t in the mood to impress. He was thinking about Kurt again, though. Thinking about his cock, as he does so often. Thinking about it in his mouth, in his hand, in his ass…anywhere but still inside Kurt’s pants. Blaine’s achingly hard and naked on his sheets, and so he does it. He calls Kurt.

When Kurt answers, he sounds slightly frantic. “Blaine? Is everything ok? It’s late.”

Blaine smiles at Kurt’s concern. He smiles at his everything. “Yeah, Kurt, I’m fine. How are you?”

Kurt sighs heavily across the line. “Working on sketches. About to stab my brains out. The usual.”

“Mmm, I hear brain juice is the new black.” Blaine chides, sliding a hand across his bare stomach, his hand twitching to close around his cock. Just the chime of Kurt’s voice sends Blaine throbbing at the moment, but jacking off to his voice while Kurt is talking about impaling his head seems in bad taste.

Kurt responds, the humor thick in his voice. “Yes, and I bet intestines would make a lovely scarf if we’re going that route.”

Blaine laughs earnestly at the remark. “Now you’re thinking outside the box.”

“It is the Kurt Hummel way, after all. So what are you thinking about on this midnight dreary?” Kurt poses.

Blaine bites his lip briefly before speaking low. “You.”

“Well I figured that, since you’re the one who called me.”

“You’re a smart ass, you know that?”

“A blessing and a curse, definitely.”

That’s when Blaine decides to go for it. “No, Kurt, I was thinking about you. While I was working tonight.” Blaine cringes at how that sounds, and now he’s wondering whether this was a good idea after all.

“Which…part of your work?”

“The fun part.” Blaine says, cupping his hand around his neck loosely out of nervousness, rubbing up and down before dropping it back onto the bed. This is so fucking weird. He never gets nervous. Ever. Yeah, Kurt is definitely different.

“Well that’s very subjective, Blaine.”

Blaine sighs, deciding bluntness is probably his best option here, considering his cock is out and practically dripping and he has no idea what he was expecting from Kurt when he called, but he’s _really_ hoping that what everyone has said about Kurt’s feelings for him are correct. “Kurt, whenever there was a cock in my ass, I imagined it was you.”

Silence. For what seems like eternity. He can’t hear anything from Kurt on the other line. Blaine starts to sweat, just at his temples, but he feels the heat creeping up his body. And now all he can think is about how he should have planned this out better. His thoughts are finally dissolved when Kurt responds.

“Oh yeah?”

Blaine swallows quietly, leveling out his breathing. “Yeah.”

“Did it make you come? Thinking of me?” Kurt sounds charged, a white-hot current ready to strike Blaine to his very core. Kurt sounds…aroused. God, he sounds _horny_. And now…well, now there’s no way Blaine can stop himself from thinking about Kurt like he has been.

Now all Blaine can picture is Kurt’s delicate hand wrapped so obscenely gorgeous around his own cock, pumping it with long, loose strokes as he hold the phone to his ear with the other. He needs to see Kurt’s cock, knows it’s beautiful and big and dripping now with arousal. Blaine doesn’t even regret his massive boner right now. He just wants Kurt to make him _come._

“Kurt, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. Imagining you there, pounding into me and making me take it. It was the fucking hottest thing I could ever dream.” Blaine spills out as he closes a fist around his cock and begins pulling up and down.

“You want me to fuck you, Blaine?” Kurt asks, and the tone of his voice is almost…innocent? Almost like he’s speaking to a child, asking if Blaine wants a cookie.

Blaine can’t stop his breath from picking up tempo, getting heavier as his fist speeds up on his cock. “Fuck yes, Kurt, please. I want you so bad.” Blaine says, a hint of whining seeping into his words the more desperate he gets.

Kurt starts _really_ talking then, and there’s no denying that Kurt’s breath has gone unsteady as well, and that just makes Blaine stroke harder. “I bet you’re touching yourself right now, wishing you had my cock up your ass, aren’t you, Blaine? You’re just itching for me to give you what you can’t get from any of your little street fucks, hmm? You’re dying for someone to fuck you who actually knows what you want.”

Blaine moans full out at Kurt’s words, spreading his legs as wide as he can as he pumps his hips up into his hand. “God, yes— _nnng_ —please give it to me, I need it.”

“Jesus, you’re a little slut for it, aren’t you?” Kurt pants out, the slapping sounds on the other end of the line not being muffled at all, which only gives merit to how hard Kurt must be stroking himself. “Tell me, Blaine. Tell me.”

A jolt of heat bursts in his stomach and through his cock as Kurt speaks, and he tries his best to not scream out the words. “I’m a slut for your cock, baby, such a fucking slut.”

“That’s right baby. Are you gonna come for me? Come all over that hand of yours and suck it off?”

“Whatever you want, Kurt, please.” Blaine begs, bucking his hips up and twisting his hand under the head of his cock as he approaches orgasm.

“Let me hear it, baby, let me hear you come for me.”

Blaine cries out as he comes, leaving his lips as some semblance of Kurt’s name as he releases all over his rapidly moving fist. He hears an “Oh _fuck_ ” as Kurt comes as well, and Blaine can only imagine how fucking incredible Kurt must look as he does.

Blaine pants loudly, breathing out his nose as he sucks his fingers clean one by one, giving himself a couple parting strokes before resting his saliva-slick hand on his heaving stomach. He can hear Kurt’s breathing through the speaker, and he wonders what Kurt is doing at that very moment. Where his hands are, what position he’s in, what he’s thinking about.

Kurt clears his throat after a moment. “Well…”

Blaine laughs breathily, nodding his head even though Kurt can’t see it. “So I guess that happened.”

Kurt laughs in return, a light, airy sound that makes Blaine’s heart leap. “Yes. Yes it did.”

“And how do you feel about that?” And Blaine almost flinching at how clinical that sounds.

“Well, Doctor Anderson,” Kurt starts, and Blaine squeaks out a truly embarrassing laugh that really only happens after he’s come and exhausted. He can almost feel Kurt smiling over the phone. “I think I liked it.”

Blaine’s grin stretches his cheeks wide. “I think I liked it too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Blaine slips the knuckle of his index finger into his mouth, biting on it as he tries not to squeal in happiness again.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Blaine.”

“Yeah, ok. Bye, Kurt.”

“Bye, Blaine.”

And for just a few seconds, just a few, Blaine allows himself to flail uncontrollably in excitement.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sounds like you had fun last night.”

“Hmm?” Kurt glances up from his copy of Vogue at the kitchen table to Rachel. She’s leaning her back against the adjacent wall with her lips around a straw, sipping a fruit smoothie casually. Kurt’s only half listening, entranced by the models donning various styles in front of him. He’s pretty much adjusted to ignoring Rachel when she speaks, which sounds cruel, but if he listened to everything she ever said he’s not so sure he would still be living in this loft. 

“Blaine sure got an earful.” At those words, Kurt pales, clutching the edges of his magazine until they crinkle in his hands. “Or should I say a handful…” she mutters.

“Rachel!” Kurt shouts, feeling his cheeks heat up as he slams down his magazine.

“What? You weren’t exactly secretive about it!” She replies, throwing up a hand in gesticulation before placing it on her hip.

“It was nothing.” Kurt snaps, snatching up his magazine and jolting out of his seat toward his room. But of course, in true Rachel fashion, she follows.

“That sounded like a whole lot of something, Kurt.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You had phone sex with him!”

“It just happened, Rachel!” Kurt spits out as he spins around to his roommate, and Rachel rears back a step from their close proximity. “It. just. happened, ok? He called and he was horny and I was horny and it just. happened. There’s no relationship, there’s no friends with benefits, there’s no nothing! Got it?”

Rachel’s mouth bobs open for a moment before she snaps it shut with a pout, crossing her arms tight over her chest. “Fine. But just remember that while you may be having “nothing” with him, I’m still your best friend. And when he leaves you flat on your ass for some forty-something divorcee with a big cock, don’t come crying to me about it!”

Kurt’s lips part slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

Rachel straightens up to her full stature, flexing her grip on her half-empty glass. “Oh, just ignore that, it was nothing.” She mocks, shoving her glass into Kurt’s hand and turning with a broad flip of her hair in succession, balancing on sickeningly high heels to the door of the loft, snatching up her purse and coat on the way, and shoving the heavy door open with one hand. She stares at Kurt pointedly one more time before slamming it shut behind her.

Kurt stands there, both perplexed and outraged simultaneously, staring at the closed door. What the hell does she know? Yeah, they got each other off last night. It was fun. It felt good. But that’s all it was. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe they are friends with benefits now; they both had said that they liked what happened. But the bottom line is, in some weird, perverted way, Rachel is right. Kurt could never date Blaine.

Yes, Blaine was sexy and sweet and funny and everything. He was also a prostitute. Kurt knows himself, and he knows that he’s possessive about things he likes. That was made abundantly clear to both of them a few days ago when that trashy creep got just a little too close. It was proof enough that first time that Sebastian guy groped all over Blaine when Kurt was around.

The amount of attachment he already feels for Blaine is unhealthy enough. Being saddled with actual reciprocal feelings on top of that would just obliterate any self-control Kurt had. Kurt would never ask Blaine to give up his life because he knows how much Blaine likes what he does. Telling him to quit whoring is like Blaine telling Kurt to quit his internship because he spends more time getting Isabelle’s coffee than he does making Blaine’s, despite Blaine knowing that Kurt would much rather be drinking coffee with him than with his boss.

With all of that crammed into his mind, the fact still remains that Kurt is falling in love with Blaine, and there’s nothing he can do to stop his heart from getting broken.

***

Blaine calls him later that week. Kurt’s learned not to panic when Blaine calls late at night. He used to automatically assume the worst, but Blaine has called him enough times after hours now to not really warrant much stress or terror at a simple name on his screen. But there will always be at least a little bit of panic. A little bit of him worrying that Blaine has been assaulted or kidnapped or worse. He tries his best to toss those thoughts out of his head the moment he hits “answer”.

“Hey, Blaine. How’s it going?”

“Eh. Alright. Bored.” Blaine drones, and Kurt lets out a breath, knowing that he is, for sure, okay.

“You at your apartment?” Kurt asks casually, lying back onto his bed.

“Nah. At some trick’s house.” Blaine replies.

Kurt sits up immediately, stunned. “You’re…on the job? Right now?” 

Despite the environment, Blaine is calm, languid in his speech. “Mmhm. He fell asleep. But he paid for two, so I gotta stick around till at least 5 am before I calls it quits. I’ll probably wake him up by then. My ass gets twitchy if it has to wait too long for what it knows is coming.”

“Oh my god, Blaine.” Kurt laughs, putting a hand over his mouth.

Blaine can’t seem to contain the little-too-loud laugh that explodes from him, but it sounds like it he tries to muffle it rather quickly to avoid waking up his “work”. When he speaks again it’s in a forced whisper. “It’s true! One day you’ll probably see it and be horrified.”

Kurt can feel his face heating up at that, playing along. “Are you implying that I’ll be seeing your bare ass sometime soon?”

“The world is a spontaneous place, Kurt.”

“That it is.” Kurt replies.

They haven’t mentioned the phone incident since they hung up that night, haven’t initiated anything else, but he knows they’re both thinking about it. It’s the big, fluorescently colored elephant in the room whenever they talk to each other, wherever they are, it’s always just below the surface. It hasn’t stopped the banter, but it’s taken on a much more palpable intensity—at least it has for Kurt. He can never be positive about Blaine, but he likes to think that he thinks about it as much as Kurt does.

“Oh hey, babe, I gotta go. I hear snuffling.”

Kurt smiles at the nickname, trying to not let it get to him, but failing miserably. “Ok. I’ll talk to you later, Blaine.”

“Hey, you wanna hang out tomorrow?” Blaine tags on before he hangs up.

Kurt’s eyes widen at the unexpected offer, but he rushes to take it. “I…yeah, sure. Around three?”

“Sounds perfect. See you then, Kurt.”

“See you then.”

~*~  
Blaine meets Kurt outside the Vogue building and links arms with him as soon as he’s out the door. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since it happened, and Blaine doesn’t want things to be weird. So he acts just as he normally would, jovially making conversation as they weave their way through the sidewalks of chaotic New York, and the talk is still nearly effortless between them. It seems they’ve both decided not to make it a big deal, and for all he knows, Kurt’s forgotten about it and just counts it as a friendly gesture to talk off your best friend over the phone.

However, Blaine would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t wearing his favorite underwear that accentuates his assets better than any others—just in case they were to have a repeat in person.

They end up at a little bistro, Blaine ordering a chicken salad and Kurt a BLT, and they sit by the window and watch the people strut by in their designer clothes and their Rasta getups and their angry phone calls. 

And all at once, Blaine can see them doing this ten years down the road.

He can see them people-watching in cafés, holding hands with the silver of their rings glinting with the sunlight from the window, as Kurt leans over to whisper critiques and compliments about the passersby in his ear with hushed tones as Blaine giggles into Kurt’s chest, feeling the flutter of Kurt’s lips against the side of his head. And when Blaine least expects it, Kurt would mutter something filthy in his ear, and he’d tease Blaine until he insisted they get the hell out of there before Blaine sucks him off right there (and they just might not make it out of the shop a couple times, and Blaine finds himself on his knees in a bathroom stall with Kurt’s hand in his hair and the other over his mouth.)

It hits him all at once, the vivid imagery, and Blaine feels like he was just shot in the chest. Like the hole is gaping and now Kurt can see right through him. He peers over to the real, tangible Kurt, and he’s sticking his fancy sandwich toothpick repeatedly into the lettuce garnish on his plate while staring out the window. The sun is setting, shining through the window and right onto Kurt’s profile, and Blaine can’t look away. The soft curves of his face, the subtle sloping of his nose, the laugh lines from his gentle smile…it’s undoing Blaine thread by thread.

Kurt must sense the examination because he turns his head with a smile towards Blaine. Blaine blinks rapidly, bringing himself back down from his little cloud and returning Kurt’s smile, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“You checking me out, Anderson?” Kurt asks with a heightened eyebrow.

Blaine lifts his thumb up and bites on his nail briefly, pairing it with a little smirk in a way that he knows makes guys a little curious about what else he can do with his mouth. “So what if I was, Hummel? The street’s not the only scenery around here.” 

“Yeah, and neither am I. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Kurt swings around in his chair and hoists himself up, snagging his coat from the back of his chair and wrestling it on.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asks, amused, but pulling his coat on anyway.

“Your place.” Kurt says simply, starting for the door.

“How presumptuous of you, Mr. Hummel. How do you know I’m that kind of guy?” Blaine teases, hooking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder from behind.

Kurt cranes his head to look at Blaine, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “Call it a hunch.” Kurt plays along for a moment before breathing out a laugh and walking again. “Keep it in your pants, Anderson, we’re probably gonna watch the ‘I Love Lucy’ marathon.”

“That sounds good, too.” Blaine chimes in after him, catching the door and following him out.

***  
They do end up watching the marathon, but their attention span drifts after a while, and they’re surfing through channels when they stumble upon an episode of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, and Blaine pipes up.

“Oh my god, stop! We have to watch this!”

Kurt grins at Blaine with a little confusion, but relents, and there is Mr. Rogers, at the neighborhood music store, making friendly conversation with the shop owner.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen this since I was a kid.” Blaine squeaks, lifting himself up and curling his legs underneath him. Kurt laughs, still looking at Blaine as he eagerly watches the television in front of him.

“You’re adorable sometimes, you know that?” 

Blaine tears his face away from the show to smile sheepishly at Kurt. The corners of Kurt’s eyes are crinkled as he grins, admiring Blaine. Blaine shrugs, “There are many sides to me. I can’t be devilishly handsome and sexual all the time, you know.” 

“No, of course not.” Kurt jokes, “Sometimes you squeal like a little kid and watch a gentle old man tell you about the wonders of clarinets.”

Blaine sets a hand over his heart in fake offense. “Hey, Fred Rogers was a bad ass, ok? He was a fucking marine.”

“I’m sure he was, Blaine.” Kurt brushes him off, crossing his legs primly.

“Look it up, right now! He wore sweaters to cover up the tattoos on his arms!” Blaine insists, leaning towards Kurt with his words. It only makes Kurt laugh more.

“Oh, dear, sweet, Blaine.” Kurt placates, shaking his head lightly. “Are you going out to get sleeves of tattoos now, to imitate your childhood idol?”

Something sparks in Blaine’s mind and he smirks at Kurt, wetting his lips, and letting them drift open for a moment before he speaks. “I have a tattoo.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Bullshit.”

Blaine shakes his head with the smirk still in place. “I’ve got one.”

Kurt narrows his eyes at him. “Where?”

Blaine just smiles, enjoying the tease.

“You’re a goddamn liar.” Kurt rolls his eyes.

“I am not!” Blaine grins widely, scooting closer to Kurt on the couch.

“Where is it, then? Why haven’t I seen it?” Kurt asks, and Blaine smiles again. Kurt smacks his hand on his face and drags it down with a dramatic flair. “Oh god, Blaine, if it’s on your ass, I swear to god…”

“It’s not on my ass! That’s so tacky. It’s not like, an arrow pointing to my asshole that says ‘fuck me’ or something.”

Kurt crosses his arms. “Then where is it?”

Blaine sighs, sliding off the couch and standing in front of Kurt. Blaine puts a bit of a mischievous glint in his eye as he undoes his pants and tucks his thumb into the right side of his waistband. 

Kurt’s eyes bulge and he sputters out, “You do not have a dick tattoo, Blaine Anderson!”

“Will you just let me..!” Blaine counters with a laugh. He tugs on the tops of his pants and underwear, down far enough that it’s dangerously close to the base of his dick, but it reveals what he’s looking for, low on his hip and curling a little into his inner thigh. A pair of plump, parted masculine lips, shaded on the edges with red, with musical bars curled sensually out of the mouth and onto his inner thigh in the shape of a tongue.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding.” Kurt mumbles. Kurt’s hand twitches, and Blaine is pretty sure Kurt wants to touch, and he really hopes the corresponding twitch of his cock wasn’t prominent enough to be noticed.

“Got it when I was eighteen, after my first major-paying fuck. Decided to celebrate. Got more than a little drunk and…voilà.” He lets the band snap back into place, doing up his pants again, and he lands heavily on the couch once more.

Kurt’s eyes dart up to Blaine. “That’s kind of really hot.” Blaine bites his lip at that, taking a little—ok a lot—of pride in what Kurt just said. But then Kurt speaks again. “Aren’t you going to regret that when you’re older?” 

Blaine meets Kurt’s eyes, where he finds what definitely looks like fire blazing hot there. He likes that look more than he should, and he wants more of it. He wants that look gazing down at him while Blaine has his lips in a vice around Kurt’s cock. He wants them staring at him from the bed, where Kurt is naked and spread out, beckoning for Blaine to join him. He wants Kurt. 

“I dunno,” Blaine says low, slipping his thumb into his waistband again and stroking over the now hidden mark, returning the heated gaze, and already imagining Kurt’s tongue tracing every line of the tattoo while Blaine tells him why he got that design. He’s not sure he’s cryptic enough when he stares hungrily back at Kurt and says, “Not if my future husband’s mouth finds interest in it.”

Kurt licks his lips, challenging Blaine’s gaze as he breathes out, “I have a feeling you won’t have many regrets, then.” 

Blaine feels the warm rush on his skin and the sharp allusion in his words.

And then it happens. He has no idea who the hell initiated it, who made the final nudge, but now their mouths are on each other. Kurt’s mouth is on him. He can feel the soft, sensual curve of him up against his own lips, the moistened state of them sliding off of Blaine’s. Blaine brings a hand up to curve along Kurt’s face, and Kurt’s hand wraps around his wrist as he takes Blaine’s lips in his mouth again. The tip of Kurt’s tongue flicks along Blaine’s lips, and Blaine briefly takes Kurt’s lower lip between his before pulling away slowly and dragging his eyelids open.

Kurt’s face is hard to read, but his chest is heaving shallowly, and he’s staring right back at Blaine. He slides his hand from Kurt’s face, but Blaine’s lips remain parted as he tries to work out what just happened. So he says what he thinks people would usually say in this situation.

“I’m sorry.”

Kurt swallows and shakes his head. “No, don’t be, it was …”

“—It was nice.” Blaine winces, running a hand through his curls. Kurt just nods more frantically in agreement.

“Yeah, definitely, it was nice.”

“Yeah.” Blaine finds himself whispering once more.

Kurt suddenly stands. “I should go.”

Part of Blaine fears that Kurt might have read his thoughts, and is about to head for the hills, but he hastily realizes how stupid that sounds. “Yeah, ok.” Blaine says, standing up as well, though he’s not sure why. Blaine nods, rubbing his hands off on his jeans. “Well I’ll see you later, then.” And Blaine waves, who the fuck waves after kissing their best friend?

Kurt’s eyes jet around before landing on Blaine with a shy smile. “Yeah. Later, Blaine.”

“Later.” Blaine mutters, once Kurt is already out the door.

The television is still on in the background, transitioning into the ending theme song of Mr. Rogers, and Blaine stands there, shocked and a little wired. He catches the words of the song in his ears, and he can’t help himself from pressing his hand over his mouth and letting out an atrociously giddy giggle and flopping back onto the couch, tracing his still-tingling lips with the tip of his finger.

It's such a good feeling,  
To know you’re alive.

~*~  
The minute he’s on the street, Kurt’s phone is in his hand, and he’s frantically pushing buttons. He’s just kissed one of his best friends. His best friend who is a fucking hooker and whom he swore he would never get involved with. But before he knew it, Blaine was unbuttoning his pants and showing him his incredibly sexy hip tattoo, and then they were really close and Blaine had insinuated…no, there was no insinuation, Kurt had just looked too far into things, and he’d imagined that Blaine had wanted Kurt’s mouth on his hip tattoo for many years to come, that he wanted Kurt to be his husband…

No, that was absolutely ridiculous, and Kurt wasn’t going to let himself analyze what Blaine had said for the next week. He was not going to get hung up on this boy he’s been trying to stay platonic with, yet is the same boy whom he got off with over the phone just a few days ago and definitely just kissed in a way that made Kurt vibrate from his head to his toes and through his dick and—

“Hello?”

Kurt’s breath comes out in a rush, his head spinning and his lips buzzing as he tries to come back down to earth. The voice on the phone helps him settle, and Kurt slams his eyes closed for a moment before responding. “Dad? I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but I have a serious problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama to come...heheh...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, there is slight slut-shaming and harsh treatment. Oh, and also angst.

“Come on, baby, you can take me better than that.” Sebastian growls in his ear, and Blaine’s forehead drops to the mattress.  He feels the strong flex of Sebastian’s fingers into his hips, almost enough to bruise if he kept them there long enough, and the hard pounding of Sebastian’s cock in and out and in again. Blaine forces out whimpers and moans, which Blaine is very accustomed to faking.

 

But not in front of Sebastian.

 

Sebastian knows how Blaine sounds when he’s blissed out and taking him willingly. He knows because Sebastian is the only one who can pull such pleasure from him to allow Blaine to let go of his inhibitions and just _feel_ , not be afraid of how loud he is or what he says. Sebastian lets Blaine be Blaine, and Sebastian is well acquainted with maximizing Blaine’s experience.

 

So Sebastian knows when Blaine is bullshitting.

 

There’s an angry grunt above him, and Sebastian’s hand reaches around Blaine’s waist and wraps harshly around Blaine’s cock. Soft. Completely soft. Blaine releases a heavy breath into the sheets, readjusting his propped-up elbows against the springs of the mattress digging into his skin.

 

“What the fuck, Blaine?” Sebastian’s fist drags down his cock, at the last minute jerking his fingers at the underside and sending his pliant cock slapping up against his chest before flapping back down between his legs, lifeless. Blaine sighs, not able to look at Sebastian at the moment for the shame coursing through his veins. “Who do you think is fucking you here, Hugh Hefner?”

 

Blaine mutters out an apology, feeling tears burn his eyes, and he clenches them shut to prevent them from falling. His knees are starting to shake subtly, and he allows his torso to drop and his ass to rest on his ankles, Sebastian’s cock slipping out of him as he does so.

 

Things have been…strained to say the least between Blaine and Sebastian lately. It started when Blaine may or may not have accidentally called out Kurt’s name while he was taking a particularly brutal pounding from Sebastian, leading to an even more severe punishment. Afterwards Sebastian has cornered him about it, asking if _that_ was the reason why Blaine had been so distant. Blaine reluctantly confirmed, and that only made Sebastian seem more upset, referring to Kurt as “that twink fashionista that’s been salivating all over” Blaine.

 

Blaine had struck back at that, literally, with a resounding smack across Sebastian’s face. Which Blaine paid for with enough smacks to his ass to last him until the next time Sebastian picked him up. Blaine had kept his mouth shut after that, but there was tension now that hadn’t been there previously. If one thing was clear, Sebastian liked his plaything. And he did not want to share it. But he also expected Blaine to comply with Sebastian’s wishes, as he had fully before Kurt came into the picture.

 

When Sebastian’s nails scrape dully down Blaine’s bare cheeks, Blaine shudders. But the blow to his ass catches him off guard, and Blaine squeals with it, the skin of his ass burning from the blaze of Sebastian’s hand. And Sebastian isn’t playing around. Not anymore. “Look, bitch, when I’m fucking you I expect you to take it.” Sebastian’s voice is cold, cold enough to chill Blaine’s bones and cause bumps to rise on his arms.

 

There’s a clear edge to Blaine’s voice when he responds, his head turned to the side to not muffle the words. “I _was_ taking it, Sir. Nowhere in the fine print does it say I have to enjoy it.”

 

The second spank is much more expected, but Blaine still jolts forward with it, clenching his teeth. “You don’t speak to me like that, you little slut.” The words are biting, and not even in a playful way. Sebastian is _mad_ at Blaine, which is just fine because Blaine is mad at him right back. “I _bought you_.” Sebastian spits out, gripping the flesh of Blaine’s ass cheek and plowing his fingernails into it with intensity, and now Blaine _knows_ there will be bruises. “I bought you, you fucking whore, and you will respect me and do what I tell you.” He lets go of Blaine’s ass, but he can still feel the deep, half-moon indentations, all five of them, marking him.

 

Sebastian never talks about him like this unless they’re in a scene. Sebastian never makes him feel like he’s worth less than Sebastian. It’s one of the reasons he enjoyed being with him so much. When they were together, Blaine wasn’t a whore, he was just a person. Money aside, Blaine always willingly gave himself to Sebastian because when he looked at him, he was willed with an overwhelming amount of trust.

 

That’s why hearing Sebastian drill him like this has Blaine hurt, but also angry. Sebastian knows how much Blaine appreciates that he treats him well. Sebastian knows Blaine’s weaknesses, and he’d made himself incredibly vulnerable in front of him, and now Sebastian was throwing it all back in his face. He was using all of this against him, and Blaine hated him for it.

 

Blaine huffs out a breath and shoves himself upright onto his knees and turns himself to look behind at Sebastian, fixing him with a hard glare. “You may have bought me, but you will never _own_ me, Bas. You can’t make me do anything. I’m not some fucking Ken doll.”

 

Sebastian’s hand lashes out, yanking Blaine’s head back by his hair, and Blaine’s breath gets caught in his throat. Sebastian is staring down at him with contempt, his eyes flicking down to the shifting of Blaine’s throat and then back up to his eyes. Blaine hears the sound before he can register what it is, but then a warm splash of saliva jets out of Sebastian’s mouth and splatters on Blaine’s face. Blaine’s head rears back in shock, taking in the fact that Sebastian just _spat on him_. “Get out of here.” Sebastian grits out, lurching Blaine’s head forward, his curls snagging on Sebastian’s fingers as he wrenches them out of Blaine’s hair and making him cry out momentarily in pain.

 

Blaine raises an arm to his face and uses it to wipe the cooling spit from his forehead, over his nose, and between his eyes, but then Sebastian’s broad hand is at the back of his neck and forcing his face down into the sheets with nothing but a cut off yelp from Blaine. The voice in his ear is unforgiving. “I’m not paying for some limp dick whore. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

 

The hand is removed just as Blaine jerks his elbow back to injure, but Sebastian dodges the attempt. Blaine scrambles off the bed and snatches up his jeans, rummaging for the hundred dollar bill in his pocket and unfolding it before holding it up in front of Sebastian. Without further ceremony Blaine promptly rips the bill clean in half, crumpling each end and chucking them both in Sebastian’s face with spite.

 

Sebastian blinks as the projectiles bounce off his chest, not even phasing him that Blaine just ruined a perfectly good hundred dollar bill. Sebastian never cares about money. He’s got enough of it to never worry again. He’s got enough to buy a better prostitute. One that won’t talk back, one that will do exactly what he says. And suddenly, Blaine doesn’t even care.

 

“Go to hell, Sebastian.”

 

Blaine wrangles on his clothes in a dense, seething silence, and bursts out of the apartment without another word.

 

Blaine’s life has been a disaster since “The Kiss”, which literally has quotations in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the sensation of Kurt’s lips on his, the way his breath got heavy, the stroke of his perfect nose along Blaine’s cheek. Blaine had thought that everything would only go uphill after that. The kisses would become more frequent, sexting would naturally occur, phone sex more often initiated, and maybe, _just maybe_ , Kurt would actually go to bed with him.

 

Well, that’s not exactly what has happened. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. Blaine hadn’t heard from Kurt _since_ the kiss. Not once. Kurt hadn’t passed by his corner like he usually does from time to time, hadn’t called him to tell him about the stupid things Rachel had said, hadn’t even contacted him at all. And it scared Blaine.

 

Instead of the kiss making things better, things only got worse, and now Blaine doesn’t even know how to approach Kurt. The obvious answer was to go to his apartment. Blaine knew that. But the thing is Blaine knows that Kurt obviously doesn’t want to see him, and he’s terrified that if he pushes too far, he’ll fuck up their relationship forever. It’s clear that Kurt thought that the kiss had been a mistake and now he’s keeping his distance to piece his mind back together.

 

On the other hand it’s been weeks with no Kurt, and Blaine is starting to go off the handle. His street work has been royally fucked and he hasn’t been able to get it up for anyone, including Sebastian, and he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t get a hold on himself soon, then the way Sebastian treats him will be the least of his problems. Kurt will find him in that same alley where they met, and Blaine isn’t so sure that Kurt will take him in this time. Not with the way Kurt’s been ignoring him.

 

Blaine lets his foot dangle out the open window as he sits perched on the windowsill, his arm resting on his other leg that’s propped up on the ledge. His cigarette jostles in his hand as he taps the ashes out the window and takes another drag, trying his best to blow the smoke out into the outside world, along with his problems.

 

“What’s up, bro?”

 

Blaine starts, his leg nearly kicking out and knocking the ashtray in front of Blaine’s foot down the fire escape, and he clutches his heart. “Jesus christ, Sam.”

 

Sam shrugs, leaning against the opposite side of the window. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

Blaine shakes his head, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips, but halting before he slips it inside. “No, it’s my fault. I’ve been on edge all day.” He lets the smoke billow into his mouth, holding it in for as long as he can, and then releasing it out the window.

 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Sam says, indicating to the ashtray that happens to have about half a dozen butts buried in the grey rubble. Blaine winces with a little embarrassment, but he takes another puff anyway. “Not to mention it’s not even eleven yet and you’ve already called it quits for the night.”

 

“Yeah, well I just wasn’t doing it for Sebastian tonight. Apparently he didn’t want a flaccid fuck. Turns him off a bit.” Blaine pulls his eyes from the dark sky and fixes them on Sam, where he spies curiosity and concern, two things that Sam is and expert at executing. “Have you ever had someone who came into your life out of nowhere and then just fucked everything up in every possible way?”

 

Sam’s lips quirk upwards at that, and Blaine already knows that Sam is perfectly aware who Blaine is referring. “Yeah, I’d probably say you.”

 

Blaine’s eyes narrow playfully. “You love me.”

 

“More than any sane, proven straight guy should.”

 

Blaine dips his head with a smile and quiet laugh, looking back up with a soft grin to his roommate. But the smile fades quickly as he opens his mouth once more to speak. “I just don’t know what to do, Sam. He won’t answer my calls, my texts, my facebook messages—anything. It’s like he’s forgotten I exist. Or he doesn’t care that still I do.”

 

“Or he just doesn’t know what to say.” Sam offers.

 

“He’s ignoring me, Sam. He isn’t even giving me one-word answers. He just isn’t answering, period. And I have no fucking clue how to fix it if he won’t talk to me.”

 

“Then go find him, Blaine. Drop by his apartment tomorrow night.”

 

“He won’t want to see me.” Blaine mumbles, putting his cigarette to his lips again.

 

Sam rolls his eyes. “That’s his problem. You’re both so goddamn stubborn, you’ll work it out.”

 

“I am not stubborn!” Blaine bursts out, accidentally exploding smoke into Sam’s face, causing him to cough and wave it toward the open window. When he’s recovered, Sam stares pointedly at him and Blaine stamps out his cigarette on the windowsill, tossing the stub out the window. “I’m not stubborn.” Blaine mutters, pouting just a little bit.

 

“For god’s sake, Blaine, go and get him.” Sam insists, his tone forceful as he points to the front door.

 

Blaine protests, “It’s eleven—!”

 

“Go!” Sam shouts, stabbing his finger towards the door again.

 

Blaine stumbles off the ledge of the window and slams it shut, grabbing his half-empty pack of cigarettes off the floor and shoving them in his pocket. “You’re so bossy.” Blaine says with a dirty smirk as he passes Sam, nudging his shoulder lightly as he goes.

 

“Keep the snake in its cage, Blaine.” Sam throws over his shoulder, and Blaine laughs as he shuts the door behind him.

 

***

 

Blaine spends the entire subway-then-walk over to Kurt’s apartment going over what he’s going to say to Kurt. By the time he walks through the doors, he still has no idea what he’s going to say. He even takes the stairs to buy him some time, but he still finds himself in front of Kurt’s door at a loss for words.

 

Taking a deep breath, he knocks lightly on the door and waits.

 

No answer.

 

He knocks again, a little louder, and calls out. “Kurt?”

 

Still nothing.

 

“Rachel? Are you in there?”

 

Nada.

 

As a last ditch effort, Blaine tries the handle, and to his surprise, it’s unlocked. Blaine is hesitant, but he slides it open slowly, and slips inside.

 

Which Blaine quickly learns was a mistake.

 

_“Uhn, fuck yes, give it to me.”_

 

Blaine’s blood runs cold and he feels his body lock up. Moans and vulgarities come floating from Kurt’s section of the loft, and there’s a definite outline of two figures fucking behind the draped curtain, separating Kurt’s room from the rest of the space. A few candles lit in Kurt’s room cast shadows against the fabric, supplying quite a sharp image of Kurt on his back and another man above him, fucking into him hard and fast.

 

_“God, harder, please.”_

_“I’ve got you baby, open up that ass for me.”_

 

 The second voice is distinctly British, and yeah, that’s probably Adam—

 

 _“Jesus, Adam, so fucking big, fuck me with that huge cock.”_ Kurt groans beautifully, and he can see Kurt’s hand fly up to claw into the lithe shoulders above him.

 

Yeah, that’s Adam, then.

 

Blaine feels like he’s going to be sick. He can see Kurt’s head tilted up, his back arching, and if he’s not mistaken, the hard bob of his cock between them. The wet slapping of skin is deafening in Blaine’s ears.

 

And Blaine will never, ever get the sounds spilling from Kurt’s mouth out of his head.

 

Blaine runs. He’s not positive, but he thinks he slams the door shut behind him, and takes off down the stairs at a sprint. He collapses against the bricks of the building as soon as he’s out the doors, panting and gasping as he tries to catch his breath and clenching his eyes shut to try and get all of the chaos out of his head. The drawl of Kurt’s moans, the outline of him being taken on his bed, the same bed that Blaine had imagined doing those very things to Kurt on countless times before. The way Kurt had begged and pleaded for someone that was not Blaine.

 

His eyes fall open to the alleyway next to Kurt’s apartment building, and he feels a burning in his throat, almost like he might throw up—

 

No, he’s definitely going to throw up. He hurtles himself to the trashcan on the nearby corner and empties his stomach into it, his chest heaving with exertion after he’s finished and shoved himself off of the reeking metal receptacle. He spits onto the sidewalk and he walks.

 

Blaine is so stupid. Of course, Kurt doesn’t want to see him because he’s back with his ex. Back with his ex who isn’t out fucking all walks of life at ungodly hours in the morning, who doesn’t take money in exchange for his body, who isn’t a hooker. Blaine was stupid to even think that Kurt would ever want him. He’s stupid to even be upset about walking in on Kurt getting fucked by someone who isn’t him. Kurt wasn’t even his to begin with, so he has absolutely no right to be upset.

 

That doesn’t stop him from feeling his stomach start to churn again.

 

He walks until he finds a bar (admittedly not very far), and he enters without a second thought, throwing himself onto a stool, dropping his forehead onto the bar, and only looking up to ask for vodka shots, stat. He throws them back quickly, and his head is spinning in record time, and Blaine is flying.

 

He must call Sam after he’s already mentally gone, because some time later he’s got an arm around his shoulder and Sam is dragging his ass back home as he babbles about the night’s events and the finer aspects of matching his socks with his scarves. He promptly crashes onto his bed as soon as Sam guides him into his room.

 

In the morning, he doesn’t remember coming home, but he remembers Kurt. He remembers Adam. And that’s all it takes to have him curling up in a ball and crying until he can’t breathe, just until he passes out to do it all over again.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt quickly realizes after leaving Blaine’s house that calling his dad was a mistake. Don’t get him wrong, he adores his dad. However, sometimes his dad doesn’t always see things from an unbiased perspective.

“I don’t like him.”

“Dad, you don’t even know him.”

“I know what you’ve told me, kid. And I don’t like him.”

Kurt sighs, his eyes flickering around the cityscape as he walks back to his apartment. “You don’t even have a reason to not like him yet. I haven’t given you one.”

“Well then give me one! I’m your dad, I’m supposed to hate the boys you’re interested in because they’ll never be good enough for you.” Burt teases.

“I haven’t even told you anything about him, really. All you know is that we’ve been dancing around each other for months. And he’s my best friend. And I think we might have screwed things up.” Kurt tries to explain, knowing very well that he eventually has to tell his father exactly  _why_  Kurt has reservations about dating Blaine.

“Where did you even meet this guy, anyway?” Burt asks skeptically.

“Just…around, dad. That’s all.”

“That’s pretty cryptic, bud.” Burt pushes, and Kurt figures he should just go for it.

“I met him in the alleyway next to my apartment complex, okay?” Before Burt can pipe in he adds, “No, he’s not homeless, he was just bruised up. He’d been assaulted, and I let him clean up at the loft.”

“ _Assaulted_? Christ, Kurt, does he work for the mafia or something?”

Kurt lets out a short laugh. “No, dad. But I still don’t think you’d like it if I told you what he did for real.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But you should tell me anyway.”

“I  _really_  don’t know if I should.”

“Kurt.” Burt says sternly, in that fatherly tone that tells him he’d better do what he’s told.

“Dad, you have to  _promise_  not to judge him, do you understand?”

Kurt can practically hear the eyes rolling in Burt’s head over the phone. “I promise, Kurt, come on. Stop beating around the bush and tell me. It can’t be that bad.”

“Well he provides special services in exchange for money, just like anybody else would.”

“And what’s his service? What’s the hubbub? Is he a rival tire shop owner? Because I can deal with that, Kurt, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Kurt comes out and says it, fast and low, but audible.

“He’s a hooker.”

Burt doesn’t speak for a moment. He breathes out heavily before he finally does answer. “What do you think you’re doing, Kurt?” Burt sounds disappointed. It makes his forehead scrunch up.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Burt’s tone is highly concerned and choppy when he responds. “Look, Kurt, I understand you’re an adult now, and that you’re…you know, knowledgeable about sex and stuff, but I like to think I taught you better than to…to go out looking for cheap thrills—”

Kurt practically chokes out, “I didn’t pay for him, dad!”

“Then why else would you be falling in love with a…with someone who does that?” Burt bumbles out, confoundedly.

“I told you how I met him! I wasn’t out looking for a…that’s not what I was looking for, dad! I’ve never…no. He was hurt and you always taught me to be hospitable. Someone attacked him, and would you expect me to just leave him?” Kurt rationalizes, trying to side-step more graphic terminology that he knows his father wouldn’t appreciate.

Burt sighs on the other end of the line. “Kurt, you can’t be getting mixed up with those kinda people.”

Kurt feels his defenses flare up. “What exactly  _are_  ‘those kind of people’, dad? I told you not to judge him. He’s a person, just like you and me. He likes musicals and football and  _normal_  things. He just earns his money differently than we do, that’s all.”

“Kurt, as your father, I can’t encourage you to go after this guy. I’m sure if you say he’s nice then he is, but you know that lifestyle is dangerous. He could have STDs or…kid, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if he were being faithful to you. You’d know he’d be out there…doing that with other people.”

“I know. I’ve thought about all of this. And that’s why I’m having an existential crisis, here. We kissed, dad, and that can’t be undone. It makes things ten times harder.”

“So let me get this straight. You two haven’t…” Burt trails off, leaving Kurt to fill in the obvious blank.

“No, dad. We’ve never...” Kurt takes a deep, quiet breath, figuring that, yes, he’s an adult and he’s capable of talking about this like an adult. “Blaine and I have never had sex, dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Burt breathes out, clearly having been holding it for Kurt’s answer.

“I’m being careful, dad. I know all of the issues that come from being with someone who does what he does. But that’s not all of who he is. There’s so much more to him. And I think you just have to trust me on that.”

“I’ll try, buddy. I’ll really try.”

*** 

**From Blaine Swallows:**

**3:12 AM:** omg kurt this guy I just sucked off seriously had a monster cock

 **3:12 AM:** I think I might have ripped the corners of my mouth cuz it fuckin HURTS

 **3:13 AM:** part of me wishes he paid me enough to drop trou for him cause DAMN I wouldn’t mind trying to take that puppy in the other end

 **3:15 AM:**  shit sorry youre probably sleeping just ignore me. i’ll shut up now.

***

**_1 New Voicemail:_ **

_Hey you little stud, you. Just calling to see what you’re up to. Sorry about last night, I hope I didn’t wake you up. But since you didn’t text me back I’ll lean towards the possibility that you’re cranky and don’t wanna talk cause I deprived you of your precious and unnecessary beauty sleep. Anyway, hope everything is alright in the world of Vogue.com. Stay beautiful, baby. Bye._

_***_

**_3 New Voicemails:_ **

_Kuuurtiiieeee. I miss seeing your gorgeous face. Call me back._

_-_

_Hey, Kurt! It’s Blaine. Again. Obviously. Just wondering if you wanted to go grab some lunch today. I have some colorful tales to tell you from the past few days that I think you’ll die laughing at my pain over. But if you’re swamped with Isabelle, that’s fine too. Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later. See ya!_

-

_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, there better be some fucking huge emergency leading to you not answering any of my calls or else I’m going to slap the shit out of you next time I see you. Love you! Bye._

**_-Delete All Messages in Voice Mail Box-_ **

*** 

Facebook Message

To: Kurt Hummel

From: Blaine Anderson

Subject: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2:34 PM: Hey, asshole. Call me back!!

2:34 PM: I feel like I’m dying without your love, Kurt!!!!

2:34 PM: A guy almost broke my ass and you’re not responding so I can tell you the story and listen to your inevitable mocking laughter

2:36 PM: Ok it’s official I hate you and we’re not friends anymore

Kurt Hummel:

2:36 PM: Blaine, I’m working.

Blaine Anderson:

2:36 PM: HOLY FUCK YOU RESPONDED! I’M NOT INVISIBLE!!

2:36 PM: Wait, if you’re at work then what are you doing on facebook hmmmm?????

2:42 PM: Kuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurt??

2:47 PM: Fine, I’ll have my tea party without your perky ass, fucker

2:47 PM: Which is a shame because the scones are gonna be hella delicious

***

**From Blaine Swallows:**

**5:20 PM:** Kurt, did I do something wrong? I really feel like I’m being ignored here.

**_5:30PM: Incoming Call: Blaine Swallows_ **

**_-Ignore-_ **

**_1 New Voicemail:_ **

_Look, Kurt. I’m not…trying to be annoying. I’m just worried, I guess? You’re not answering me, like, ever. And if this is about…if this is about the kiss, then don’t you think it’s better if we talk about it? There were four lips involved, if I recall correctly, and two of them were mine. If you think it shouldn’t have happened, that’s fine. But I…I liked it, Kurt. I thought it was nice. But If that’s not what this is about, then you have an even greater obligation to tell me, your_ fucking best friend _, about what is going on with you. So call me back. Please. Pleeeaassseee._

***

“That’s the third time I’ve seen you ignore a call in the past half an hour, Kurt. Don’t you think it could be important?” Isabelle asks, setting down her coffee on the table after taking a sip.

Kurt shakes his head, putting his phone on silent and slipping it into his bag hanging from his chair. “It’s just Blaine.”

Isabelle raises an eyebrow. “And is there a reason you’re ignoring him?”

Kurt shrugs, stirring his latte with a stirring stick. “Don’t really want to talk to him.”

“Ok, let me rephrase. Is there something that happened that makes you not want to talk to him? And that is causing him to call you a million times?”

“It’s nothing, Isabelle. Forget it.” Kurt looks at her sharply, trying to get her to drop it. Now.

“Honey,” Isabelle says softly, placing her hand across the table on top of Kurt’s, “Tell me what’s going on. Last time I checked you two were nearly inseparable."

Kurt’s eyes meet Isabelle’s, and he sighs. “Ok. A few weeks ago, Blaine and I were normal as ever. I was over at his place and we were watching TV and we…kissed.”

Isabelle’s eyes bulge, even wider than they are usually, her hand flying to her heart. “Kurt, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“I haven’t told anyone but my dad, Isabelle. I haven’t even told Rachel. I don’t _want_  to tell anybody.”

“Why the hell not? You’ve been head over heels for this guy from the start! Even the day after you met him, I could tell something about you had changed. So why the cold shoulder, hon?”

Kurt stares at her as if she had just said that pleather was a redeemable material. “Why? Isabelle, anything that I do with him just makes everything worse! I can never be with him, and pretending that I can just hurts too much. Kissing him was possibly the biggest mistake of my life, especially knowing that he liked it. He liked it, and he probably wants more, and he probably wants to _sleep with me, god_.” Kurt rants on, his eyes snapping shut in simultaneous realization and frustration. “We can’t, Isabelle. We can  _never,_ because you know how I get. Possessive and clingy and manic. I want him and I can’t stop wanting him, and Isabelle if this is how I feel without even being in a relationship, even sexually, how do you think I’ll be if we actually  _are_  in one?” Kurt leans forward in desperation, grabbing Isabelle’s hands with his.

Isabelle shakes her head softly in sympathy. “Oh, Kurt, I’m sorry. This is…complicated.”

“Pff. Yeah, try living it.” Kurt scoffs.

“Well, I suppose getting over him would be a good idea. But ignoring him might not be the best way to go about it.”

“But it’s the easiest way for me.” Kurt argues.

“Well maybe it isn’t for him. And if you care about him at all, you should consider that.” Isabelle advises, squeezing both of Kurt’s hands before pulling away to take another sip from her cup.

Kurt falls back against the back of his seat with a huff, kicking the heel of his boot against his dangling bag.

***

He’s only two drinks in when he hears his name being called in frightfully nostalgic tones. “Kurt? Is that you?”

Kurt clutches his drink with a little more force than strictly necessary as he turns toward the voice. “Adam. Hi.”

Adam is all smiles and gorgeousness as he approaches the bar where Kurt is seated, signaling the bartender down for a drink. Something strange, akin to fear but not quite as cataclysmic, shoots through Kurt’s stomach at the sight of him, at the proximity of him, at his smile and courage and enthusiasm he’s possessed as long a Kurt had known him.

Adam had been comfort for Kurt in a big way. Comfort against big, bad New York, against many a failure and tear-stained night. And even though they had mutually grown apart, Adam had been the one who ultimately split, leaving Kurt moderately heartbroken, but even more excruciating, leaving him alone. Something Kurt’s dangerously sure he hasn’t fully recovered from.

“How have you been?” Adam asks politely.

Kurt crosses his legs primly. “Oh, you know me. Work, work, fuck, work.” Yeah, so maybe the “fuck” part wasn’t true, but he wasn’t about to let Adam know that he hasn’t gotten laid in months. Or that he’s getting incredibly restless due to this fact. Or that said restlessness was the exact reason he was in a gay bar right now, dressed to kill in side-studded skinny jeans and lace-up boots with very little of a shirt to speak of.

“So you really haven’t changed, have you?” Adam says, laughter apparent in his voice. “You seeing anyone?” Adam asks with what seems to be genuine curiosity.

“Oh, I see plenty of people. Every day, in fact. Funny thing about the world, there seem to be a lot of us humans here.”

Adam lets out that trademark laugh that he’d usually only reserved for Kurt back in the day, and it makes goosebumps rise on Kurt’s skin. “Never lost that wit for a second, did you babe?”

“And never will.” Kurt asserts, taking another drink, which seems to signal Adam taking a sip of his own that the bartender had left at his elbow. “No, I’m not.” Kurt answers Adam’s original question, trying as hard as he can to sound blasé about the topic.

Adam nods his head, staring at Kurt’s face for a second too long before muttering, “Shame for them.” 

It’s three more drinks later, only two for Adam, when Kurt finds himself on his back, welcoming Adam’s cock in his ass like a long-lost friend. In the moment, everything about it feels  _right_. The familiarity of Adam, his face, his body, his accent, his dick…it all feels so mind-numbingly normal. Certainly along with the waves of liquor sloshing through his insides and stimulating his brain to a new realm of pleasure.

He’s completely lost to the world outside of Adam until he hears the front door slam shut.

“Goddamn it, Rachel.” Kurt mutters, pressing his face into Adam’s neck.

“Do you want to stop?” Adam asks, slowing his hips to a halt.

“Hell no. We’ll just have to keep it down a bit.” Kurt says, fucking down onto Adam’s cock to get him going again. And Adam doesn’t need telling twice.

***

He feels like a train wreck the next morning. His brain is beating out of his skull, his ass aches like a motherfucker, and his legs are so sore he’s pretty sure Adam tried to pull them out of his sockets—

Shit. Adam.

Kurt bolts up, taking in the obvious fact that Adam isn’t in bed with him anymore, and his clothes are nowhere to be found either. Most of Kurt is overjoyed that he doesn’t have to deal with the aftermath immediately, especially feeling as shitty as he does at the moment.

Kurt collapses back onto the bed, sheets flying up around him as he breathes through his nose and tries to not freak out as best as he can. He’d hooked up with Adam last night.  _Drunkenly_  hooked up. And now Kurt feels so stupid. Adam had treated him like shit in the end, and Kurt had just let him back into his bed like they were old chums.

Little flashbacks of their intoxicated fuck filter through his mind like a gritty slideshow, and Kurt is absolutely positive he has no dignity left if he was as loud and clingy and desperate as he thinks he was last night.

He hears the front door open and close, and the telltale sound of clacking heels on the concrete floor. Kurt drags himself out of bed and slips through the draped partition after pulling on a pair of pajama pants. Rachel is in her side of the room, throwing her fitted trench coat onto her bed and fluffing out her hair.

“What were you doing out so early? Considering you got in at about midnight last night.” Kurt asks, tugging his fingers through his fucked up hair. His voice sounds fucked too. He should just face it, everything about him this morning _screams_  ‘I had a drunken fuck with my ex last night.’

Rachel takes him in, head to toe, and wrinkles her nose. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Kurt says, the sarcasm thick in his raspy voice. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t come home last night, boo.  I stayed at Brody’s overnight.”

Kurt’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What are you talking about? I definitely heard the front door.”

Rachel shakes her head slowly. “I wasn’t home. Oh my god, were we robbed?” Rachel’s voice shoots up an octave, scurrying from her room and scanning the apartment, her heels knocking against the floor and sounding like boulders in his hungover ears.

“No, Rachel, I would’ve heard it if we were robbed. Besides, Adam and I were fucking loud enough to scare them away…shit.” Kurt closes his eyes as he lets the end of his sentence drop off, cupping his hand around his forehead.

“ _Adam_?” Rachel shrieks. “You were with Adam last night?!”

“God, shhh!” Kurt shushes, clutching his head.

Rachel cringes in apology, lowering her voice. “Sorry. But you hooked up with Adam last night?” Rachel asks again, wide-eyed.

Kurt nods minimally, trying to keep his head from moving. “I was drunk and horny and needed  _someone_. And then Adam showed up and…wait, but that’s not the point! Who came home last night then?”

And then Kurt freezes. “Oh god.” He whispers, shifting his gaze to the front door and staring. “Oh  _god_.” Kurt whines, his hand flying to his mouth.

“Kurt, what’s wrong?” Rachel asks worriedly, scurrying over to him and cupping his cheek with her hand.

“Blaine."

Rachel scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. “What about Blaine?”

“It was  _Blaine_  last night. Oh my god.” Kurt repeats, and he feels hot tears burning his eyes as it all dawns on him. “He probably came over to see why I was avoiding him. We left the door unlocked when we ran in and…oh  _god_ , Rachel.” Kurt presses his face into Rachel’s neck, her perfume far too overwhelming for his current state, but he needs somewhere to crawl, and Rachel has always been there.

Her arms come up around his stomach, squeezing tight. “Oh, Kurt, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all my fault. I ignored him and I slept with Adam and it’s all my fault.”

“Blaine will understand, Kurt. He’s a boy. He’s familiar with sex.”

Kurt grabs her shoulders and looks her in the eye. “No, Rachel, you don’t get it. It’s not me having sex that’s the problem. It’s the fact that…that  _I’m having sex_.” Kurt says, trying to get across what makes sense in his head, but obviously makes no sense to Rachel.

“I’m…not getting the difference there.” Rachel says, still looking confused.

“There’s a whole lot between Blaine and I that you don’t know, Rachel. I’ll just leave it at that.” Kurt’s too tired and exhausted to explain. He passes Rachel and heads back towards his room.

“And you aren’t going to  _tell me_?” Rachel complains, stomping a foot on the ground.

“Later, please, Rachel.” Kurt begs, wrenching closed his curtain and flopping onto his bed again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angst is almost over, I promise!

“I fucking hate you.” Blaine chokes out, the minute he walks through the door and spies Sam lounging on the couch with the TV on. “I fucking hate you so much and I never should have listened to you.” He sobs, clutching his arms around his stomach as tears spill over onto his cheeks.

 

He passes straight by Sam, a look of shock and concern on his face, and goes to his room, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t waste a minute to drop facedown onto his bed and heave his cries into it, shaking with his feet curled under him.

 

It’s been three days since he caught Kurt in bed with Adam, and everything has gone to hell since. He’d tried throwing himself into his work, and it pacified him for a couple days, but today he’d broken down. He’d broken down in a near-stranger’s bed in heart-wrenching sobs while being fucked.

 

Blaine was lucky with this one, because he was kind. Mr. Hughes had taken on his services only once before, but he has proven to be concerned for Blaine wellbeing. He had stopped at once when Blaine began to cry in earnest and inquired about Blaine’s health. Blaine made up a bullshit excuse about his mother being fatally ill, which had produced the tears, insisting he had just tried to jump back into the game too soon when he was so worried.

 

Blaine had given him a full refund and a rain check and a thousand apologies, and then left without another word. And he felt like complete shit. Even as a prostitute, there are lines that you don’t cross and courtesies that you supply, and crying over a _boy_ in your customer’s bed is definitely one of them. He hadn’t been able to do his job properly, so he hadn’t gotten paid, and he wasn’t about to go out again tonight. So what was Blaine good for anyway?

 

Sam knocked a couple times before stepping inside his room anyway.

 

“Go away.” Blaine says half-heartedly, muffled by the duvet underneath him.

 

Sam sits on the edge of the bed, Blaine can feel the dip of it, and he strokes a comforting hand down his back. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ok, let me rephrase. _Tell_ me what happened, or else I won’t leave.”

 

Blaine turns his head toward Sam to glare at him, red watery eyes and all. “You can probably guess, Sam, and I’d rather not talk about it if I don’t have to.”

 

Sam shrugs. “No, I really couldn’t guess. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll assume that a giant lizard crawled out of your ass or something while you were giving head.”

 

Blaine feels his mouth twitch against his will, trying to smile, but he forces himself to stay stoic. “I started crying. Not even crying, _bawling_. In bed. Because you fucking made me go see him, Sam, and I’ll never get the image out of my head.”

 

Sam sighs, scooting himself further onto the bed and tugging at Blaine until his head his resting in his lap. “That was my fuck up, and I know it. I’m sorry.”

 

Another sob rises in Blaine’s throat, and he just lets it come, biting his fingers into Sam’s pantleg and crying for all he’s worth. “God, it just _hurts_ , Sam. I never meant to— _hic_ —hurt this much.”

 

“I know, bro. I know.” Sam continues to stroke at him, through his hair and down his back and then circuiting back again. “Love is stupid. _Kurt’s_ stupid.”

 

Blaine jerks up. “Kurt is _not_ stupid!” He growls, glaring at Sam again. “Kurt is not stupid and he will never be stupid—”

 

Sam tries to interject, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

 

“ _I’m_ the stupid one, Sam! _I’m_ the stupid one for ever thinking I had a chance with someone like Kurt. That I’d even be worth his time. Someone as perfect and gorgeous and successful as—”

 

Sam grabs for Blaine’s jaw and tugs up on it, fixing Blaine to face up at him, and speaks very firmly. “You deserve so much fucking more than someone who is playing with you the way Kurt is, Blaine. You deserve all the love in the world. And if Kurt doesn’t want to give you that, then that is entirely his loss.”

 

Blaine’s eyes fill up again at the words, and his lip quivers with it, and he surges forward into Sam’s stomach, crying again. Sam has always been behind him, one hundred percent, giving him all the boosts that he needs. And he knows that most of what Sam says is probably best-friend-talk, but god knows Blaine needs someone there to hold him when he cries and tell him that he’s not worthless. Sam has always been that friend, and Blaine is positive that he would have died as an apathetic whore on the street if Sam hadn’t stuck by him when his parents dumped him onto them.

 

“I love him.” Blaine whispers, playing with the seams of Sam’s pants, and trying to make it look like he’s not having an internal breakdown over having said those words out loud for the first time _ever_.

 

But Sam isn’t shocked. “I know. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t.”

 

Blaine glances up at Sam, vision blurred by lingering tears. And he says it again, just because he can. “I _love_ him.”

 

“I know.” Sam repeats, and he pulls Blaine into a tight hug. Blaine tucks his wet face into Sam’s neck and breathes the familiar scent of his best friend. It calms him.

 

“God, I love him.” Blaine breathes out one more time, because he can’t actually believe it and he needs to say it in order to process it fully.

 

“Ok, now you’re just rubbing it in my face that I’m soon going to be tossed in the trash with the Tobey Maguire Spiderman trilogy and replaced with the new Andrew Garfield model.”

 

Blaine muffles a laugh into his neck. “You’re full of shit, Sam.” Blaine mutters, only half joking.

 

“Only about a quarter full, but that’s because I had a big dinner.”

 

This time Blaine doesn’t even bother keeping a straight face.

 

***

When he sees the name on his phone, ice shards shoot through his chest and it takes him a moment to answer.

 

"Kurt?"

  
"Hey, Blaine." It’s the first time he’s heard his voice _not_ in the throes of passion for the first time in over a month, and it runs through him like hot cider in the winter.

  
"Hey. How's it going?" He says, keeping the utter panic out of his voice as much as possible.

  
"Hanging in there, I guess."

  
"Yeah. Same." Blaine responds, despite Kurt not knowing exactly how close he’s been to letting go of that edge he’s been clinging to for so long.

  
There’s a bit of a silence. Then, "So...what are you up to?"

  
Blaine glances down the expanse of his stomach to his slicked fingers lying on his chest, and suddenly he feels very, very inappropriate. Like he’s violating Kurt. "Um...uh prepping. For the night."

  
Kurt sounds genuinely perplexed. "What kind of prepping?"

  
"Uh...well, the...anal kind."

  
He hears an intake of breath. "Oh my god! Blaine, are you fingering yourself while--"

  
"No no!” Blaine sputters out, “God Kurt, no they're out, I--"

  
"Jeez, Blaine..."

  
"No, no, I'm sorry. That probably wasn't the right thing to say, but since this is the first time I've talked to you in weeks the last thing I want to come out of my mouth is a lie."

  
He hears Kurt sigh. "...Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

  
Blaine wipes his fingers on his chest and sighs in return.

  
Suddenly Kurt speaks. "It was you, wasn't it?"

  
"What was me?"

  
"You came to the apartment. The night that Adam was over. That was you." Kurt sounds so sure.

  
Blaine mutters. "Oh. I...it might have...I don't..."

  
"I'm sorry, Blaine."

  
Blaine sighs again, letting a small amount of the bitterness he’s been feeling creep into his words. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Why would you be sorry? You can sleep with whoever you want. Hell knows I do."

  
"That's different and you know it." Kurt insists, but Blaine can’t help but disbelieve him.

  
"Is it different, though?" Blaine jabs, feeling his anger rise.

  
Kurt sounds angry too. "Don't feed me this bullshit, Blaine. Don't you dare make yourself out to be the martyr here. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

  
Blaine thinks about that. The “everything we’ve been through.” What does Kurt know about what they’ve been through? What _Blaine_ has been through? Kurt won’t even admit to himself what has been going on between them. So how does _he_ know?

 

"We haven't been through _anything,_ Kurt. What the hell are you talking about?"

  
"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, Blaine." Kurt says, almost threatening.

  
Blaine can’t stop the resentment, the undeniable urge to make this difficult for Kurt, just as it’s been for him. And he wants to hear him _say_ it. "How about you spell it out for me so we're on the same page then, ‘cause I feel like I'm in a completely different fucking book."

  
Kurt huffs. "You know what I mean, Blaine.” And he finally says it. “The kiss! The 'you and me'. The teasing, the glances, the everything!"

  
Blaine rolls his eyes, even though Kurt can’t see. He hopes it comes out in his voice. "I thought none of that meant anything, Kurt? At least that's what you’ve been putting off. Sorry if my mind reading skills are a bit rusty."

  
"Fine, Blaine. Whatever. You go have your little hissy fit--"

  
Blaine flares up, and he can’t _believe_ Kurt just said that. Just accused _him_ of being a bitch. "Oh, you mean like you've been having for the past _month_?!"

  
"Goodbye, Blaine." Kurt says sharply.

  
“Fine! Bye!” Blaine shouts back. He waits until the line goes dead, and then chucks his phone onto the bed.

 

He lies there, fuming, for about five minutes before scrambling for his phone again. He doesn’t think. He just does. And before he knows it, there’s a familiar voice on the other line.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Sebastian. I want you.”

 

There’s a pause on the other line. “O…kay? This isn’t usually how it works. I call _you_.”

 

“This is different. I need you. Now.”

 

“I’m still at work, Blaine. You can’t just—”

 

“ _Please_ , Bas.” Blaine begs, _whines_ , knowing how much Sebastian loves it when he begs.

 

“Christ, Blaine. Ok, ok, but you sure as hell better give me a discount for this.”

 

“How is ‘free’ for a discount?”

 

Sebastian is silent for a moment. “Wh...what?” Sebastian stutters out. “Free. Meaning like, just doing it to do it? Not—”

 

“That’s _exactly_ what I mean, Bas. I want _you_ , not your money. Now.” Blaine says hastily.

 

"Shit someone really must've done a number on you." Sebastian mutters.

  
" _Now,_ Sebastian." Blaine insists.

  
"Christ, yeah, ok. Your place, then.” Sebastian lowers his voice to a gritty whisper, obviously trying to keep it down in case someone was to walk by his office. “Fuck, you better be naked when I walk through that door."

  
"Already am. With my fingers in my ass."

  
Sebastian moans, and Blaine’s cock twitches with it. "Fuck baby, that's so hot. Alright I'm out the door."

 

“Hurry.” Blaine whines, finally taking his cock in hand.

 

“I’m hurrying.” Bas says, before hanging up.

 

He tosses his phone onto his nightstand and squeezes his eyes shut with his head back against the pillows. He’s positive he’s making a terrible life choice, but he needs this. If Kurt can do it, so can he.

 

And God knows he needs a brutal pounding right now.

 

~*~

 

“Well, you seem awful gloomy.” Rachel remarks as Kurt picks at his lasagna. Kurt drops his fork on his plate with a loud clatter and looks up at Rachel across the table. 

“Thanks for noticing.” Kurt says, sourly. He knows Rachel doesn’t deserve it, and she’s actually been rather supportive throughout the whole Blaine debacle—after he filled her in of course. She’d had her one little outburst about Blaine’s life choices and moved on, favoring helping her best friend navigate his way through the maze of love over judging him for something that might not even matter in the long run. He softens his face almost immediately. “Sorry. I just…I called Blaine earlier.”

 

Rachel’s eyes widen. “How did it go?”

 

“How do you think it went?” He asks simply. Rachel nods, beginning to understanding.

 

“So you didn’t make up, then?”

 

“No, Rachel.” He says, almost condescendingly. “We didn’t. We just fought. And I’m mostly to blame. I’m the one who’s been ignoring him. I’m the one who’s been treating him like shit. He has a right to be upset.” Kurt admits, picking his fork up again and this time taking an actual bite of his dinner.

 

“So what are you gonna do?” She asks, taking a sip of wine from her glass.

 

What is Kurt going to do? He has no fucking idea. He doesn’t know how to make things better, or to make them normal again. But he knows he has to, and he intends to. Kurt has come to realize that he really isn’t being mature about the situation at all. They kissed, yes, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It didn’t mean that they _had_ to get together. It didn’t mean that Blaine expects him to jump into bed. It just means that they kissed. Just a kiss.

 

A very, very good kiss.

 

A kiss that Kurt has reminisced about much more than he cares to let on.

 

More than that, Kurt is starting to justify things. Wondering what is so wrong about dating Blaine anyway? He’s just a boy, Kurt has said the same himself. If it came down to it, maybe even one or two non-committal fucks might take the edge off things. Kurt is positive that Blaine is safe, and they would be too if they were to be together in that way. What’s the harm in indulging himself in loving Blaine? But above all, Kurt knows that they need to talk like the adults they are and muddle through this mess.

 

“I need to go see him. Face to face.” Kurt says, already working the gears in his head to fabricate a plan of some sort.

 

“That seems like a good idea. But…knock first?” Rachel says, with a subtle smile on her lips.

 

Kurt lets out a small laugh. “And if he doesn’t answer, I’ll leave.”

 

“Good plan.” Rachel says, nodding.

 

He sure hopes it is, anyway.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope you like this one :)

“I’m so sorry for last time.”

Blaine hums noncommittally, slipping his cigarette in his mouth. He stares up at the ceiling, his arm resting on his bare stomach, the sheets tangled around his legs. He lets the stream of smoke seep out the cracks in his lips and escape into the sex-thick air of the room.

“Blaine, look at me.”

Blaine does, tilting his head to the side and letting his cheek rest on the pillows to take in Sebastian’s face, ridden with what is probably guilt for something that Blaine got over quite a while ago.

“I want to say I’m sorry.” Sebastian says quietly, reaching a hand out to stroke the side of a finger down his face. “I was already pissed off when I had you come over and I took that out on you. That wasn’t okay. I know I took advantage of your kinks and used them maliciously, and I am so sorry.”

Blaine closes his eyes softly and allows himself to feel the comforting presence of Sebastian on his skin. “It’s fine, Bas.”

“No, it’s not at all ok, and I know that. In no world is the way I treated you ok. I pretty much attacked you and I told you things that weren’t true and it is completely my fault. It’s  _not_  ok, but I wanted to apologize and tell you that I know it was wrong. And I would never, never take my anger out on you like that again.”

Blaine smiles fondly at him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “We all make mistakes, Bas. Besides, I’m a whore. I’m pretty used to harsh treatment.” He blinks his eyes open to look at Sebastian, who doesn’t seem any more relaxed.

“Will you stop degrading yourself like that, please?” He asks, almost begging, and Blaine feels his heart beat out of time with it. Blaine shifts his face in admiration, in wonder that Sebastian has probably spent hours regretting that one fuck up, one that Blaine had barely batted an eyelash at in the grander scheme of things. “You are not a whore, Blaine. I know I said shitty things like that to you last time, but you have to believe that it was the temper talking, not me. You are not a whore. You’re not a slut. You’re not any of those disgusting things I said you were.”

Blaine shakes his head gently, placing his free hand onto Sebastian’s. “But Sebastian, I am a whore. It’s what I do. I sleep with people for money. That’s the definition of a whore.”

“Maybe so, but lately you seem to be using it as a handicap or something. Like it defines who you are as a person. Like it makes you less than everybody else.” Sebastian says, his forehead crinkled with concern.

And suddenly, with Sebastian saying it like that, Blaine realizes that since he’s started comparing himself to Kurt, it  _is_  what he’s been putting himself off to be. And Blaine is started to get uncomfortable with that truth. “Well, my job isn’t exactly respectable…” Blaine mutters, stuffing his smoke into his mouth again and inhaling to calm his nerves.

Sebastian jerks an outraged hand in the air. “So fucking what?! What makes a job ‘respectable’ anyway?”

“The fact that you provide a dependable income for yourself without subjecting yourself to be physically abused by strangers!” Blaine argues, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“Because I sit behind a fucking desk all day and make some phone calls?”

“Because you’re the fucking CEO of a reputable company!”

Sebastian plucks the cigarette from Blaine’s fingers and takes his own drag. “Then what does that make me if I’m the one using you, huh?”

“It makes you ‘a man’, Sebastian. In this society, that’s exactly what it makes you.” Blaine says bitterly, fiddling with their empty condom wrapper while Sebastian takes his turn on the smoke. Without preamble, Sebastian cups Blaine’s cheek firmly, forcing him to look towards Sebastian’s face, where tendrils of smoke are drifting from his nostrils, as well as from the dwindling cherry from the cigarette now in the ashtray.

“You’re a man too, Blaine. One of the most fantastic men I’ve ever met in my life. One that I would spend every day of my life with if you would do me the honor.”

Sebastian’s face isn’t mocking. It isn’t joking. It’s solemn. Blaine is hardly able to take in the gravity of what Sebastian just said. Something that if he had only said a few months earlier, Blaine would have fallen into his arms and kissed him for all he was worth and said “yes” a million times.

If only a few months ago.

“Sebastian…” Blaine prefaces, his eyes resisting meeting Sebastian’s as hard as they can. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying—”

“I am. Come live with me. Come be with me.” Sebastian whispers lovingly, and despite his better judgment, the hairs raise up on Blaine’s arms at the notion. “I’m serious, B. I want you to be there when I wake up and when I come home. I swear I’d always treat you with the respect you deserve. That I  _know_  you deserve. Which is much more than  _I_  do. I’ve been thinking about it for far longer than I’d like to admit, but there it is.”

Blaine lets out a heavy breath, and leans forward until his forehead falls against Sebastian’s with a light impact. “I wish you’d have asked me a long time ago.”

“Well, I’m asking you now.”

“And now I have to say no, Bas.”

“Why?”

Blaine sighs, but closes the distance between their lips, pulling him almost magnetically into a deep kiss. A kiss, Blaine hopes, communicates how sorry he really is that he has to say no. He feels pain come through in Sebastian’s retaliation as he grips the sides of Blaine’s face with his hands, like he isn’t about to let him go.

But he does, mere seconds after Blaine’s lips draw from his and Blaine’s spent breath wafts over Sebastian with all Blaine can muster of regret and  _I wish I could_ s.

“You know exactly why.” Blaine says softly, his eyelids still shielding him from Sebastian.

“Kurt.” Sebastian replies, just as quiet, just as somber. Blaine doesn’t verify it, only leaves another lingering kiss on Sebastian’s lips.

“Now it’s my turn to say sorry.” Blaine says, the corner of his mouth lilting upwards, trying to lighten the intensity of the room.

But it doesn’t seem necessary as he fixes Blaine with a broad smile, one that Blaine is sure is forced, and lays a hand on Blaine’s naked shoulder, pushing him down onto the bed once more. “The only thing I want coming from your mouth from now on, baby, is moaning and begging, because I’m about to fuck up your world for the next hour.” Sebastian croons as he straddles Blaine, punctuating his words with a filthy kiss down in Blaine’s mouth as he rocks his hardening cock into Blaine’s without restraint.

And as much as Blaine knows this is a defense mechanism for Bas and he wants to make sure he is really ok, the friction against his cock is too good to argue over.

~*~

Kurt plans out his outfit very particularly the next day, although he’s not sure why. Something about seeing Blaine for the first time in weeks has him wanting to look his best. He woke up at eight, but he doesn’t end up leaving the apartment until around eleven, when he’s positive that he looks impeccable. The weather is warming with impending spring, the sun shining on a Saturday morning, and Kurt builds with confidence as he makes his way to Blaine’s apartment.

He strolls through the front doors of the complex, and is on his way up the second flight of stair when he’s almost run over by somebody descending them.

“Oh shit, I’m so…” Kurt lets his words trail off as he sees who it was that he nearly sent crashing to the ground. “Sebastian, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, if it isn’t Sexless and the City.” Sebastian looks proud, smug, almost  _happy_  that he’s run into Kurt like this, and he has a sickening feeling as to why. “Blaine and I just had a little sleepover.” He reports with a vindictive smirk. “He’s so insatiable sometimes. I couldn’t leave him alone.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Sebastian, propping a hand on his hip. “Jesus, he must make bank out of you.”

If it’s possible, Sebastian gets even  _more_  smug at that. “He didn’t ask for a cent this time. And I doubt he ever will again. I make it too good for him.”

Kurt’s heart drops to his stomach. “He…he didn’t charge you?”

Sebastian leans up against the railing, folding his arms over his chest with pride. “Nah. God, it felt good being able to fuck him for hours and  _hours_ , knowing that he wanted it just as much as I did. What an animal.” He purrs, reminiscent, and Kurt’s rage spikes.

“You’re lying through your teeth, asshole.” Kurt glares, but Sebastian doesn’t back down.

“Go and see for yourself, if you like. He’s probably still passed out on his bed from the last time I fucked him.” Kurt shoves past him brutally, but he stops dead in his tracks at Sebastian’s following remark. “I mean, at least I care enough to check in on him now and then. See if he’s okay.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kurt twists around, and Sebastian is in the same spot, picking at his nails.

“I think you know what I mean.” Sebastian answers dubiously, but then elaborates with a cringed disgust on his face. “I really hope your ex fucked you doggie. I don’t think I could handle watching that lady mask of yours try to pop an O-face.”

Oh god, Blaine told Sebastian everything.

“You don’t know anything about Blaine and me.”

“I know that you’ve been fucking with him for who knows how long, fucking up his brain. And can you even  _comprehend_  how shitty you make him feel about himself? The way you treat him, like being a hooker is an illness. Like he has leprosy and needs to be quarantined. And the minute he starts to show feelings for you, you shit on him, go fuck your ex to get your mind off of him, and pretend he doesn’t exist anymore. Yeah, I can see where Blaine gets his masochism from. Maybe if you thought of him with a regular person with feelings, then things would be different.”

Kurt can feel himself start to shake the more Sebastian speaks. “Who the fuck are you to tell me how I feel about Blaine? What I think of him? You don’t know anything!”

Sebastian shrugs. “I know how Blaine feels. Which is way more than you can say, isn’t it? Because knowing how someone feels requires that you actually talk to them and try not to fuck up their life by flat-out ignoring them. Blaine deserves someone a thousand times what you are. And I hope you never forget that you will never be good enough. Not for him, not for anyone.”

Sebastian pushes himself off the rail, throwing his last remarks over his shoulder, “I can actually  _feel_  your jealousy sticking to me like a second skin right now, so excuse me; I need to wash that off along with Blaine’s sweat and come.” Kurt stares at him until her rounds the corner to the next flight and loses sight of him.

Kurt finds himself running up the stairs until he gets to Blaine apartment, knocking on the door hastily. The door opens, and Kurt is greeted with Sam, staring at Kurt with surprise.

“Kurt?”

Kurt shifts his weight nervously. “Hey, Sam. Is…is Blaine here?”

The shock hasn’t worn off Sam’s expression when he answers. “I…Yeah. Yeah, in his room.”

“Thanks.” Kurt mumbles, shrugging himself into the apartment as Sam shuffles aside to let him in.

He’s on his way to Blaine’s room when Sam speaks again. “Um, I’m gonna head over to the gym.”

Kurt furrows his eyebrows curiously back at Sam. “Ok. Have fun.”

Sam rubs his hands down his jeans, his eyes not wanting to meet anywhere for too long, before finally fixing Kurt with a pleading look. “Kurt please…please don’t screw him up. He’s been a wreck lately.”

Kurt’s expression softens. “I won’t, Sam. I promise.”

Sam nods, a little excessively, before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

Kurt takes a deep breath, and then knocks quietly on Blaine’s shut door.

“I don’t have your gym shorts, Sam!” Blaine shouts from the other side of the door.

“It’s me.” Kurt says simply, and he hears a loud  _thump_  from inside the room, and a mumbled swear.

“Kurt?” Blaine says, but it’s almost reverent. Like if he says it too loud, Kurt will vanish. And suddenly Kurt is overcome with guilt.

Kurt braces himself and turns the knob, letting himself in. Blaine is standing in the middle of his room, clad only in a pair of jeans, his curls disheveled, his expression a cross between confused and in awe.

It takes Kurt a moment to realize that they’ve been staring at each other for about a minute.

“Hi.” Kurt whispers, feeling if he talks too loud, it’ll disturb…something.

“Hi.” Blaine returns, just as tentative.

Kurt stares down at the ground, and he scuffs his shoe on the carpet. Kurt remembers doing the same thing the night he met Blaine. It makes Kurt’s stomach dance uncomfortably.

He hears the springs of Blaine’s bed creak, and he looks up to see Blaine sitting heavily on the edge of it, still unable to keep his eyes off of Kurt.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds almost accusatory.

“I needed to see you.” Kurt says quietly, clutching his bicep tightly.

“I don’t see why. You haven’t felt compelled before.” There’s bitterness there, bitterness that Kurt knows full well that he is the source of.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” Blaine says brusquely, finally turning his head and staring in the direction of his closet.

“I saw Sebastian.” Kurt says wearily, crossing his arms across his chest for some kind of comfort.

That throws Blaine off guard, and he yanks his head back to Kurt. “What’s wrong? Jealous?”

“Oh, come off it, Blaine.” Kurt says, shaking his head. “In what universe would I be jealous of _That_?”

Blaine charges him in his tone, gripping the bedding underneath him with intensity. “ _This_ universe. Where Sebastian asked me to come live with him. To come be with him. Because he  _wants_  me!”

That warps Kurt’s brain, hearing those words from Blaine and not Sebastian. It’s almost as if his heart is ripping, just tiny little tears, but then something is squirting lemon juice inside them. Blaine wouldn’t really go with Sebastian, would he? Not when Kurt was standing right here. But something in him feels like maybe Blaine  _should_  go. And that’s what he pushes for, against his better judgment.

“Oh, then why didn’t you go, then?” Kurt shouts. “Go with him! I’m sure he’d spoil you! Fuck you just right, all the time! That’s what you care about, isn’t it? Getting fucked?”

It dawns on Kurt rapidly how very, very wrong that was to say to him. He also becomes privy to the thought that he’s deliberately doing the opposite of what he agreed to Sam. He’s making confrontation. But there’s so much coursing through his system, so much hurt in his chest that he has to let it out somehow. And he sees the product of it in Blaine’s expression.

“How dare you!” Blaine yells back, hurtling himself off of the bed and towards Kurt. “How _dare_  you accuse me of that! You know, maybe I should go with him! He would never think that I wanted to be with him solely for the sex.”

Kurt wants to stop fighting, but he’s not. “Good! Then go get him. He’s probably waiting outside right now, knowing you’ll come crying to him when mean ol’ Kurt comes stomping in here to fuck up your life! Your knight in a shiny condom to come fuck your cares away!”

“Oh, but the sex  _is_  good, isn’t it.” Blaine hisses, a malignant smile crossing his face. “He’d fuck me until I forgot all about you, wouldn’t he? Fuck me until I screamed for mercy. Because he’s not afraid that fucking a whore would make him less of a person.”

Kurt takes that like a blow to the chest, and that’s what finally knocks him out of his rage—that Blaine actually thinks Kurt feels as if Blaine is less of a person for doing what he does. Kurt shakes his head adamantly, speaking softer. “I never thought that about you.”

And Blaine  _laughs_. Harsh and cold and cutting. “You thought that from the moment you met me! I propositioned you and you turned me down because you didn’t want to fuck a whore! And I respected that, I always respected it. I respected  _you_ , but it fucking sucks that you never respected me.”

“I do respect you!” Kurt argues back instantly, begging him to understand.

“Oh, how could I not realize?” Blaine mocks. “How could I not realize that you having an existential crisis over kissing me meant that you respected me.”

Kurt falls silent. Tears leak from behind his eyes and they sting. The words were bubbling inside him like champagne, the fateful words that he knew he had to tell him to try and fix this, and explain his actions, but they were not filling him with the giddiness that usually accompanies the alcohol.

Blaine is shaking his head, his lips pressed together to utter paleness out of frustration. “Don’t tell me you respect me, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. When you couldn’t even handle knowing that you’d kissed a wh—”

“I stayed away because I knew I was falling in love with you!” Kurt yells, finally letting the tears slip down his cheeks, and letting the words leak too. He’s shaking, and it feels like it’s vibrating through his entire body.

Blaine freezes, staring at him. “You’re lying.”

Kurt shakes his head with vehemence, wiping a tear from his cheek. “I ignored you because I knew I  _was_  in love with you. I was so in love with you it  _hurt_ , Blaine! But I couldn’t handle being with someone that sleeps with other people! And it’s not  _because_  you sleep with a lot of people, it’s because those people wouldn’t be me!”

Blaine’s face falls, and so does his body, as he collapses back onto the bed, staring at nothing for a long time.

Kurt walks toward Blaine and sits down next to him, but Blaine still doesn’t look at him. “I’m sorry I treated you like I did, Blaine. And I know I did a terrible job at trying not to love you because I still feel like I’m going to explode, seeing you again. My heart is beating out of my chest and my stomach feels sick and all I can think about is how beautiful you are right now, even when you’re pissed off at me.”

Blaine drops his head, his chin hitting his chest with momentum, and Kurt sees a tear hit Blaine’s knee, darkening the fabric of his jeans.

It’s right then that Kurt comes to a realization about everything. And he sees fit to share it with Blaine. “I’m not scared anymore, Blaine. I don’t care about any of that. Anything you do. I just  _want you_. I want everything about you.”

Blaine sniffs and another tear falls and all Kurt can think about is wanting to get rid of those tears as soon as possible.

“Blaine, please say something.”

“I’m scared, too.” Blaine says thickly. “I’m scared shitless.”

Kurt’s confusion seeps through his features, he’s sure. “About what?”

Blaine looks up, his face blotchy and wet and still absolutely gorgeous to Kurt. “About  _you_. You’re perfect, Kurt. You’re successful and handsome and snarky and a million other things that I’m not. I’ve never even been in love before, not like this. You scare the fuck out of me, Kurt. I could  _never_  be good enough for you, but I love you so much I feel like I’m gonna be sick from it sometimes too.”

Kurt lashes out his hands and takes Blaine’s cheeks between his hands, and Blaine lets out the smallest whimper that makes Kurt’s heart ache. “Blaine, I’m an idiot. I’m the biggest idiot to ever walk the streets of New York.”

Blaine’s hands cup over Kurt’s, and he gives a watery smile. “You kind of are.”

Kurt glides his head forward until their foreheads are pressed together, and he gives Blaine a wide smile in return. “But I would really like to be  _your_  idiot if you’d let me.”

“God, Kurt.” Blaine sighs out, and then their mouths are pressed together, and Kurt is clawing at Blaine’s bare back and Blaine is destroying Kurt’s flawlessly coiffed hair and Kurt couldn’t give the slightest shit.

The tears disappear quickly as Kurt shoves Blaine onto his back and straddles him, feeling Blaine arch underneath him and grab at anything he can touch. Their mouths seem to meld together perfectly, even more so than they had the first time they kissed. But now, there were feelings and revelations and an overwhelming dizziness between them that Kurt simply cannot get over.

With a burst of energy, Blaine shoves upwards, sending Kurt backwards off the bed, immediately followed by Blaine who subsequently shoves Kurt against the neighboring wall and begins attacking his mouth again. Kurt welcomes the action with a loud moan, his hands clinging to the small of Blaine’s back, and Blaine moans in retaliation.

Kurt switches their positions in a matter of less than a second, hearing Blaine’s head thud dully against the drywall, but he doesn’t appear to care about the pain if there is any, given the way he whimpers as Kurt shoves a leg between Blaine’s with obvious intent.

Kurt kneads the top of his thigh up against the bulging hardness in Blaine’s pants, and Blaine’s head flies back against the wall again with a deep groan. Kurt takes the opportunity to devour the neck before him, sucking at biting at the skin with ferocity.

Kurt doesn’t plan the words when they come out, spoken raspy and low in Blaine’s ear as he continues to rock his leg up into Blaine’s throbbing cock beneath the denim.

He doesn’t intend to, but it forces its way out anyway, giving light to how badly Kurt  _needs_ this.

“I wanna fuck you.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE SEX WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!!! Thank you all for being so nice and patient with me I love you angels :***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay heed to the section breaks. The POV shifts between Kurt and Blaine a few times. Enjoy boos :*

Despite the rapid pace that they're going, the words still catch Blaine by surprise.

_I wanna fuck you._

Blaine stops moving, staring at Kurt for a moment, before panting out, "Really?"

Kurt nods furiously, rocking his leg up into Blaine's crotch, and Blaine lets out a moan, readjusting his hold on Kurt's shoulder. "Yes, really."

Everything in Blaine wants to say  _Yes, right now, do it right now_ , but he doesn't. He blinks. He swallows. He rubs a hand over the bulge in his jeans. And he sighs. "Are you sure?"

Kurt's eyebrows scrunch together for a moment before answering. "Of course, Blaine."

Blaine's eyes won't settle as he does all he can to make sure that Kurt has thought this through. "Really?"

All Blaine sees when he sets his eyes on Kurt, inches from him, is concern. Kurt's thumb comes up to stroke over his face softly. "Blaine, what's going on? I mean, do  _you_  want to do this?"

"Yes, yes, I do, I promise." Blaine whines, pawing down Kurt's chest with his fingertips as he locks eyes with Kurt. Blaine feels ridiculous, and he's not even sure exactly what he's getting at when Blaine mutters, "Sit down on the bed."

Kurt cups Blaine's face, confusion lining his own. "Blaine, what-"

"Just do it, please." Blaine begs, desperation coming out in his face.

Kurt does, backing himself up to the bed and letting himself fall onto it, staring back at Blaine against the wall with his arms crossed over his stomach. "Blaine, are you okay?"

Blaine nods, his eyes studying the carpet. "Yeah, I just can't really think clearly when you're so close. Your smell and how you feel and what you do. I just...need to think."

"I really do that to you?"

Blaine looks up to see Kurt biting his lip, a smile fighting to break through. It spurns one on Blaine's lips as well. "Yeah. Always."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Kurt asks tentatively, pulling a leg up onto the bed and curling it inwards.  
  
Blaine shrugs with a sigh. "I guess it depends on the scenario..." Kurt nods in understanding, but otherwise stays silent, letting Blaine think. But Blaine isn't so sure he needs to think anymore. He knows what he wants to say, he's just a little afraid to say it.

He finally meets Kurt's eyes, where he sees worry, which Blaine is sure he mirrors. "Kurt, I love you, and I really want you. But I just need to know that this is what you want." Kurt makes a noise to protest, but Blaine raises a hand to quiet him, and Kurt obeys immediately. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you won't regret this."  
  
Kurt straightens himself up where he sits, and he pierces straight into Blaine with his gaze. It's determined and resolute and a vibrant kind of sexy that reassures Blaine without the words even leaving Kurt's mouth. "Blaine, for as long as I live, I will never regret doing this with you."

Blaine puffs out a breath held in his lungs, running a hand through his hair before refining the matter. "And you promise we'll discuss everything after we do it?"  
  
Kurt nods abruptly. "I promise we'll discuss everything and anything you want."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Blaine gives an easy smile, and Kurt follows. He makes his way to the bed, kneeling on either side of Kurt's legs with the bed sinking underneath his weight. Blaine's been in this position a million times with a million men in a million different situations, but this one makes his skin tingle. It makes him giddy with excitement and anticipation and it's  _Kurt_  who he's doing it with, and it makes him just plain silly. "Now what are you waiting for? Make love to me, you wild stallion." Blaine says, scrunching his face and tossing his head about in mock passion.

Kurt throws his head back in a laugh, fastening his hands around Blaine's waist before saying, "You know, I've been counting the minutes until I get to trace that tattoo of yours with my tongue."

"Yeah?" Blaine grins as he slides off of Kurt, slipping the button of his jeans and slowly undoing the zipper. Blaine holds onto them for a moment, looking at Kurt, before dropping them, along with his jaw, as if to say  _oops_ , which he clearly did not mean. He steps out of them and kicks them aside with little care, standing in front of Kurt in his dark blue boxer-briefs, a very visible hard-on, and an untethered friskiness that projects onto Kurt in an obvious way. 

"Mmhm." Kurt growls, eyes fixated on the V of Blaine's hips, where Blaine's thumbs are tucked securely under the waistband of his underwear. "Every single second."

Blaine smirks, beginning to tug them down. "Well I think your stopwatch just died."

And Blaine lets them fall to the floor as well.

~*~

Kurt's heard many times that when you finally get what you want, it's almost impossible to process it. That there is so much running through your head, so much disbelief, that the traffic causes a lack of focus. And he had fully expected that to happen when he first saw Blaine naked. He'd expected to be entirely overwhelmed and want to just sit and take him in for hours, wait until he's had his fill and can actually think, before getting down to the nitty gritty.

Kurt is very, very glad to report that none of this is the case.

The moment the last stitch of clothing on Blaine's body hits the carpet, Kurt doesn't experience any epiphanies or  _oh my god this is really happening I can't believe it_. The only thing that goes through his head is...

 _Gimme_.

It's selfish and primal and irrational, Kurt is at least aware of that much, but hell if he cares. Blaine is stark naked in front of him, all tanned skin and trimmed hair and sculpted body and everything he's dreamed of for months on end, all on display just for him.

And his  _cock_. Dear god, his cock. Hard and erect, thick and cut, framed with neat, dark curls that Kurt wants to bury his face in while Blaine pulses his come hot down his throat. He's smaller than Kurt is, and Blaine had hinted at that before when he'd guessed Kurt's size, but he's bigger than Adam and that only thrills Kurt more.

One thing is for sure: Kurt and Blaine's solitary foray into phone sex had never given Kurt the flawless visual that was standing in front of him at this very moment.

For all of this poetic analysis wrestling through his brain, the response he actually vocalizes is bastardized to say the least.

"Fuck."

The laugh Blaine gives is two parts amusement, one part nerves from what Kurt can assess, and he seeks to eradicate that one part as soon as possible.

"It's really not much." Blaine says, self-deprecating, extending his hands out to the sides for a moment before letting them slap back to his legs with the momentum of released tension.

Kurt shakes his head reassuringly. "No, Blaine, it's a lot. It's a whole hell of a lot. Come here." He holds out his hands, and Blaine takes them with an anxious, but excited smile. "Lie down, please?"

"Yes sir." The word makes Kurt's arm hair stand on end, but he resolves to play with that "sir" dynamic a little later. Blaine crawls onto the bed and rests against the pillows, lifting his arms to fold underneath his head and leaving his body on show for Kurt.

Kurt takes the opportunity to remove his shirt, shoes, socks, and pants, surprised when he hears an unexpected intake of breath from Blaine's direction.

"What? Is something wrong?" Kurt asks, somewhat panicked.

"I..no...you're just...god." Blaine speaks with wide eyes, and Kurt would wager that those overwhelming feelings that Kurt  _didn't_  experience on seeing Blaine undressed are exactly what Blaine is undergoing in the opposite viewpoint.

"Oh..." Kurt blushes, suddenly very self-conscious. He folds his arms over his chest timidly, and Blaine protests almost instantly.

"No, don't!" He lashes out a hand, half sitting up in the process to try and pry Kurt's hands away from himself. Kurt laughs lightly, smacking Blaine's hand away, but relents and removes his hands from his torso. "Don't ever hide yourself, Kurt. You are absolutely gorgeous."

Blaine says it with such earnest intent that it fills Kurt with warmth and, as sex-driven as it sounds, lust for the man in the room with him that Kurt  _pounces_. Blaine yelps at the impact, grinning all the while, and Kurt lands a sloppy kiss on his lips just because he can.

"Take off your underwear." Blaine says, squeezing at his ass through the fabric. "I need to see your 7/5 that I predicted so long ago."

"Blaine! It's probably not even that big..."

"Oh, it is. Trust me." Blaine says with the kind of adamancy that  _Kurt_  should have, not him. Kurt takes a deep breath, giving him a  _here goes_  look before shimmying himself out of his underwear.

When Blaine takes him in, he's quiet. But when he speaks again, his voice is deeper. Husky and masculine. It's effect on Kurt is akin to hot coffee warming his bones on a winter morning. "Yeah. I was right."

"Oh, shut up." Kurt rolls his eyes as he tries to hide the shiver that rolls through every other part of him, and slides himself down Blaine's torso until he is level with Blaine's hips. "I believe I have some business to attend to down here that I've been eagerly awaiting."

Next to Kurt's face, Blaine's dick gives a definitive twitch, and Kurt smirks. "Don't tempt me." Kurt scolds, not quite sure why he's reprimanding a hunk of flesh instead of the human who owns it, but Blaine bursts into laughter anyway, and Kurt blushes again. Goddamn Blaine making him blush like this. It's not like he's a virgin, far from it. But Blaine reduces him to feeling that way.

"You're so fucking cute." Blaine says, and Kurt scowls up at him.

"Are you still gonna think that when I'm ramming my cock up your ass?" Kurt challenges.

Blaine shrugs. "Probably. But it'll be entwined with ‘fucking sexy' as well. You're always cute."

Kurt tries not to smile, and decides to train his eyes on the marked skin under him instead. Up close, he can see the barest change in texture between the ink and the skin, most prominent in the bold coloring of the artificial lips. Kurt brings a finger up to trace along the tattooed mouth, feeling the smooth surface, offset by the occasional scratch of Blaine's leg hair. He follows the ink along the musical notes that make the tongue, rounding back to the lips where he began. Kurt glances up to Blaine to see him, his actual lips parted and staring at Kurt with wonder and lust. Kurt holds his gaze as he sinks his mouth down over the skin, and draws his tongue over the surface.

Blaine moans as Kurt sucks at him, pulling the skin into his mouth. He tugs it between his teeth, bathes over it with his tongue in broad licks, doing anything and everything that Kurt can think of that involves his mouth and the colored ink. Blaine's reaction enthralls Kurt more than anything, compels him to go onward, and it gives Kurt a little boost in esteem.

Blaine takes everything Kurt does very well, all things considered, and Kurt's pride skyrockets when Blaine at last shouts to the ceiling, "Oh my god, Kurt, _please_ , suck me. Suck my dick, please."

Kurt releases the skin in his mouth with a wet pop, giggling against the slick expanse at Blaine's desperation.

"It's not funny!" But Blaine has a laugh in his voice anyway. "Or fair! What you're doing is so far from fair...it's in Asia right now, eating domestic Japanese food."

"You're awful coherent right now." Kurt accuses, pinching Blaine's inner thigh.

Blaine narrows his eyes almost threateningly. "Make me not so coherent, then."

When Kurt takes Blaine into his mouth, he hears every ounce of breath that Blaine possesses cascade out of him at once as his head hits the pillows.

"Jesus Christ, Kurt."

Kurt smiles against him as he drags his open mouth up and down the side of him, sucking on his balls and making his way back up to smother him in wet heat once more.

"That satisfactory for you?" Kurt teases.

Blaine groans. "Shut up."

Blaine feels fantastic, so thick and alive, pulsing with blood and warmth and vitality. The bitter taste of precome dribbles into his mouth as he sucks and licks at Blaine's cock with fervor, framing his sharp hipbones with nimble fingers and staring up at Blaine with mischief in his eyes. Blaine's hands clench against the slats in his headboard above his head as he returns Kurt's gaze, his hips occasionally jerking upwards into Kurt's mouth. The deeper Kurt takes Blaine, the more those little jolts make him gag, but the greater the thrill that runs through him like sweet venom-intoxicating and overwhelming and poisonous in a truly dangerous way.

Kurt slurps his way off of Blaine a final time, placing a gentle kiss to the head of his dick before landing a much wetter one to the still slick skin baring the tattoo on Blaine's hip. The rise and fall of Blaine's chest is certainly not minimal, and Kurt takes pride in that fact.

"I need you to fuck me." Blaine whimpers, stroking a hand over his cock, dragging it through the saliva coating him. When Kurt is hit with the reality that it's his own saliva, something hot twists through him, and that initial vigor to  _fuck_ burns through him like wildfire. "My drawer." Blaine indicates, and Kurt crawls from between Blaine's legs over to the right bedside table and yanks open the drawer. His eyes immediately fall on a box of spilled condoms and a quarter-full bottle of lube, and he snatches both. He's about to close it when his eye spots...a vibrator.

Large.  _Very_  large. Larger than Kurt, for sure. Flesh colored with sculpted balls at the base and a sturdy silicone structure. Kurt's fingers twitch. He wets his lips. And he stares.

"Don't you even fucking think about that, Kurt Hummel. Not right now."

Kurt rears his head back to Blaine, who isn't even  _looking at him_ , his eyes are closed as he lies back on the bed, but he obviously knows what is in his drawer and he knows what Kurt would be thinking.

Blaine blinks his eyes open at Kurt and gives him a firm look. "The only thing that is touching my asshole today will be attached to your body, do you understand? Toys are for another occasion."

Kurt nods stiffly, regretfully, even though he agrees and he knows Blaine is right.

"Some other time, I'll let you tie me to the bed, and you can do whatever you goddamn well please with whatever toy you want until I scream and beg for mercy, but right now is  _not_  that time, okay?"

The image of Blaine sprawled out and truly fucked on his bed while Kurt experiments with all the toys that Blaine owns creeps its tendrils around his mind, but he decides to log that scene away for his next lonely night at the apartment. Kurt smiles extensively, slamming the drawer shut with his spoils. "Deal."

"Good." Blaine smiles back, letting his legs fall to the sides to create a space for Kurt to maneuver into. Kurt makes a home there, flattening onto his stomach and welcoming a face full of very naked, very exposed Blaine right at eye level. He lays a hand on Blaine's splayed inner thigh and slips a thumb into his divide, putting his hole on display for him and the open air of the room. And Kurt doesn't want to ask, he really doesn't, but he has to. He removes his thumb and his entrance is obscured again as Kurt looks up at Blaine, who basks in utter contentment above him.

"Blaine, how long ago did Sebastian..." Kurt drops off the end of his sentence, hoping sincerely that he doesn't have to clarify in exact words.

He can tell he doesn't have to, because the contentment falters. Blaine shifts uncomfortably, scooting himself against the pillows. "I don't know...four hours? I sort of fell asleep after...and I woke up when he left."

Kurt nibbles on his lip, but nods. "No, that's fine. You didn't know, and I just sort of burst in and we...it's okay."

Blaine's face crumbles the slightest amount "It's not like it makes this less special to me, Kurt, I promise. You're the one that I want. I didn't go with him, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know this is special. It's special for me too."

Blaine smiles at him reassuringly, and Kurt's spirits lift just seeing it. And then Blaine takes a deep breath and says, "I don't want you to finger me. I...I want you to stretch me open. With your cock. I know I'm already open from before, just enough to make it stretch. I just love...I want...I want to finally feel you." The way Blaine's brow furrows, the way his fingers fiddle with the sheets, reads to Kurt as if he's...nervous? Or concerned that Kurt will deny it to him. Maybe he's trying to repair the fact that Sebastian had just fucked him a few hours earlier and he wants that stretch to be from Kurt's cock, and Kurt's cock only. It makes Kurt's heart hurt to see that look in Blaine's eyes after all they've been through to get to this point. He wants to be able to prove to Blaine that Kurt will take him how he is, however he is, with no complaints.

"Blaine, of course. I would love to do that. As long as you won't get hurt or-"

"I won't! I know my limits and I'm very elastic, I promise."

Kurt muffles a laugh into Blaine's thigh letting the gravity of the moment pass. Once it has, the heat creeps back up into his face, his gaze. "There is nothing I would love more than to stretch your ass open on my cock, baby."

Blaine's eyes fight where exactly to land on Kurt's face, looking as if they just want to be able to be  _everywhere_. "And there's nothing I want more than to take it."

When Kurt repositions to sit on his heels, he hauls Blaine with him by the legs, and Blaine  _squeals_. His ass sits proudly high upon Kurt's thighs and his calves drift off Kurt's legs at the knee, hanging adorably in the air and hovering over the bed. Blaine is red faced and grinning, his head, back, and shoulders all flat on the sheets with his arms outspread above him from the sudden jerk downwards of his body and the slow catch-up of his limbs.

Kurt admires the creases and folds of Blaine's abdomen created by his awkward, upward-sloped positioning, the sparse hair that speckles between his pecs, the trail leading down from his belly button to the springy patch at the base of his cock.

Kurt grabs for the lube and squirts out an initial amount over Blaine's hole. Blaine gasps sharply at the cool liquid, and Kurt rubs it in a little with two fingers, dipping in just a little to make the slide easier. Blaine moans, tucking his face into his arm; Kurt takes that as his cue to make quick work of the condom and lubes himself up sufficiently, hauling Blaine up once more as Kurt gets his final positioning situated. He slips out from under Blaine's ass, and he bounces as he lands on the mattress.

"Hold your legs open." Kurt commands gently, and Blaine rushes to obey, grabbing behind his knees and spreading them liberally to give Kurt room. Kurt, at last, lines himself up with Blaine's entrance, and grasps Blaine's hip with his other hand. "Ready?"

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Have been since the day I met you."

Kurt smirks, but uses that to propel himself forward, and for the very first time, feel the tight ring of Blaine's ass stretch around his cock.

~*~ 

When Kurt pushes inside of Blaine for the first time, an explosion of  _stuff_ blunders through his mind and body. It's extraordinarily ineloquent and stupid, but it just  _is_ , and Blaine doesn't know how else to explain it. At first, it's only the head of Kurt's cock that is holding him open, but that's enough for the initial push, and almost more than Blaine can handle.

His head is a big ball of fuzzy monochromatic noise, like someone just pulled the cable cord on an HD television in his brain and suddenly Blaine can't see _anything_ , can't hear  _anything_. The radio is off frequency, the microphone is too close to the amp, and it's all blaring at the exact same time. All he knows is that there is something between his legs that feels more amazing than he's ever felt before, and the sane part of him is determined to tune in as quickly as possible to figure out just what it is.

And like a switch, Kurt's cock slips deeper inside him, and Blaine knows exactly where he is again, who's between his legs, and what they are doing there. "Kurt." He whimpers out feebly, sweat beading at his forehead, groping his hand around the mattress in search of Kurt's hand. Luckily Kurt responds quickly, snatching up Blaine's hand and clutching it tightly with a broad, bright, classic Kurt Hummel smile-but then something more. Something in his eyes, in his face, that Blaine would like to think is especially reserved for him.

"You're still really fucking tight, Blaine." Kurt says, his face scrunching up in an impossibly adorable way as he slides in another inch. Blaine barely catches the expression as his own eyes flutter shut for a moment with a moan at the stretch and friction. 

"Not all my fault. God you're so big."  
  
Kurt huffs out a laugh above him, a loose lock of hair on Kurt's forehead blowing about with the action. "I'm sure you've had bigger." He says modestly-well, what Blaine would consider modest.  
  
"Bigger isn't always better, sweetheart." Blaine reassures, and squeezes Kurt's hand. Kurt grins down at him so fucking charmingly, and yeah, Blaine is pretty fucking sure that even though he's nearly balls-deep inside him and about to fuck him within an inch of his life, the sun still shines out of Kurt's ass. "So why don't you show me what you can do with that cock, my big boy?" Blaine tempts, wiggling his hips down onto Kurt.  
  
Kurt twitches his lips into an adorable half-smile. "Yours?"

Blaine can't keep the smile from his face as he returns the word, loaded with so much meaning. "Yours." A sentimentality passes between them, and they grin at each other, the reality that this is actually happening settling in the air. Blaine breaks it, however, with a playful tone. "Ok, enough of the schmoop. Fuck me."

"Mood-killer." Kurt mumbles, adjusting his hold on Blaine.

"Excuse me if I have trouble keeping up the cutesy when your dick is in my ass- _ah!_ " Blaine is cut off by the final thrust of Kurt's cock, bottoming out inside of him and feeling his balls smack dully at his ass.

"Better?" Kurt asks with a proud smirk, hovering over Blaine's form.

"Mmm, much." Kurt smiles above him, sucking Blaine's lips into his mouth, and Kurt starts to move. "God, that's more like it." Blaine muses, his head tilting up and his legs wrapping around Kurt. The thrusts are heavy and filling and so _good_ , Blaine doesn't notice the constant string of moans and gasps trailing from his mouth.

"You feel fucking amazing, baby." Kurt says, kissing him as his hips work steadily, pulling his cock out and snapping back in again.

"So do you,  _shit_." Blaine moans entwining his fingers in Kurt's hair and digging his heels into his ass. "Faster, come on."

Kurt obliges as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and Kurt's cock starts _pounding_  into his ass. Blaine's jaw falls open as he's continually jostled up the bed, the smacking of Kurt's hips against him sending tingles down his spine, and he wishes he could record it and set it as his fucking ringtone or something.

Blaine slips a hand down his chest and closes a hand around his cock, stroking leisurely in time with Kurt's thrusts, thumbing the precome down the length of himself. "Fuck, don't stop, baby."

"Wasn't planning on it." Kurt snarks, and suddenly his hands curl right underneath the globes of Blaine's ass and he  _heaves_  Blaine up as he pushes himself up onto his knees.

"Jesus fuck!" Blaine exclaims at the change in angle, Kurt  _drilling_  his cock directly down into his ass and hitting him just right. "Right there, shit, don't fucking move!"

"You just open right up for it, don't you, baby?" Kurt's hips propel forward harder and harder. "Open right up for my cock."

"God, I can't- _fuck_ -not when you're so- _oh_ -fucking perfect at using it." Blaine pants out, his ass squeezing around the thickness inside of him.

"You probably say that to all your fucks." Kurt keeps talking as he fucks him, the slippery sound of lube and the swish of the condom a consistent reminder of just how well he's doing it. "Most guys have trouble fitting my thick cock in their ass, but not you. Getting fucked so often, you could take anything, huh?"

Blaine's open mouth pulls into a smug grin. "There's that size pride I've been waiting for. Knew you had some in you."

"Well I'm pretty sure it's in you too right now, if I'm not mistaken. Sucking up my cock like this." Kurt banters back, picking up speed, and Blaine's breath hitches with it.

"God, you're so  _dirty_ , Mr. Hummel." Blaine teases, increasing the pace of his hand on his cock as well. "I never-" But Kurt is pulling out and flipping Blaine over onto his hands and knees before he can finish, plunging back in with purpose. " _Fuck_ , I love taking it from behind." Blaine croons, scrambling a hand behind him to grab hold of Kurt's neck and pull him into a filthy kiss.

"You love taking any way you can get it, don't flatter me." Kurt scoffs, taking a firm hold on Blaine's hips and letting him have it. The way Kurt's hips press flush against the hot flesh of his ass on every thrust is magnetic and Blaine finds himself pushing back onto Kurt's cock just to have that contact if just a moment sooner.

Blaine's head tips backwards and he stares up at Kurt, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth sexily as his cock hammers into him. Kurt's eyes fall on Blaine's, and he smirks, his hips slowing slightly. "What?" Kurt asks, pressing his fingers into the lushness of Blaine's ass cheek.

Blaine just smiles up at him, little whines making their way from his throat out from his closed lips and into the room as background noise every time Kurt fills him up. "I just like you touching me." Blaine finally says. "Like you fucking me."

A smile hell-bent on putting the sunrise to shame spreads across Kurt's face, despite the fact that his cock is still deep inside of Blaine. Kurt falls like silk over the expanse of Blaine's back, the palms of his hands cupping over Blaine's on the bed. He sweetly slips his fingers into the spaces between Blaine's and kisses him.

"Well I like touching and fucking you." Kurt whispers at his lips. "So it's a win/win as far as I'm concerned." Blaine feels Kurt's hips rolling into his ass smoothly as he continues to kiss him, his dick stroking along his insides, and in that moment Blaine actually feels like he's being made love to. And he doesn't mind at all. "Who's being cutesy now?" Kurt teases, but there's nothing to it, because Kurt's face is soft and his smile is light and his eyes are illuminated with Blaine in their reflection.

"Touch me." Blaine speaks softly into Kurt's mouth, and his lip is captured between Kurt's teeth. Kurt's hands caress up Blaine's arms, over his biceps, his shoulders, down his back. Blaine chuckles lightly, knocking his nose against Kurt's. "No, I mean... I'm gonna come. Touch me and keep fucking me like that. Deep, just like that."

Kurt hums into him and takes his time dragging his fingertips down Blaine's body before wrapping his hand around Blaine's cock dangling heavy between his legs. His strokes are tight and slow as his own cock slides deeper inside of Blaine, and Blaine's head drops between his shoulders with a sigh. He watches Kurt's delicate hand pump at his cock, dripping at the head, and Kurt begins pressing kisses between his shoulder blades.

"God, Kurt..." Blaine sighs, rocking his hips back in rhythm with Kurt's movements. Kurt's other hand tucks into Blaine's curls and lifts his head up gently.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Blaine." Kurt moans into his ear, accompanied by the muffled slap of Kurt's hips on his ass.

Blaine feels himself falling apart as Kurt's hand twists and pulls at his cock and his breathing grows heavy, every thrust of Kurt inside of him sparking new arousal within his body. "God, I'm so close. Just keep fucking me, please."

"I'll keep fucking you until you come on my cock, baby." Kurt says, sucking Blaine's earlobe into his mouth and stroking harder and faster at Blaine. Blaine groans as he starts bucking into Kurt's fist, hands squeezing at the sheets underneath him.

"Fuck, Kurt,  _please_." And he's coming with a gasp, his hips jerking into Kurt's hand and his limbs shaking and his heart pounding. He feels Kurt's hand stroke down his back as he fucks him through it, securing his hand around Blaine's waist to hold him up. "God, keep going, want you to come inside me." Blaine sobs, still shivering while he thrusts back onto Kurt.

"Shh, I will, baby." Kurt placates, kissing his neck and fucking harder into him with his own orgasm. "Open up for me."

Blaine moans, his cock twitching feebly beneath him, and his arms give out, leaving him with his ass in the air. "Come on, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." Blaine grits out as Kurt once again grips his hips and starts to fuck into him  _hard_.

Kurt is grunting and sweating and whining above him as he works, and it's not long at all before he's collapsing on top of Blaine with a loud cry, his hips jolting inside of Blaine as he comes.

The sweat between them is sticky and disgusting and wonderful, and the flow of Kurt's breath against the back of his neck as it dries is a sharp chill. Kurt's cock slips out of him of its own accord and Kurt giggles.

"You tired him out."  Kurt jokes, indicating to his dick before searching for Blaine's hand to hold, which Blaine supplies readily.

"I'm a lot to handle. But I think you knew that. Not sure if he did." Blaine returns with a smile as he gestures to Kurt's spent dick as well. Kurt laughs at that, lifting himself up so Blaine can flip over onto his back. Kurt rests against his chest peacefully as it rises and falls, and he traces lines across Blaine's stomach with his fingers. "That was amazing."

Kurt grins up at him, hair askew and looking like sex, hugging a hand around his waist. "Pretty damn, yeah."

Blaine snorts, tucking a hand around Kurt's shoulders in kind. "No need to overstate for my sake."

Kurt laughs again, kissing his collarbone softly, but when he looks up at Blaine again his face is sincere and gentle. "I've never had better. And that's a fact."

Blaine leans down and kisses his forehead. "Me neither. And that's not an overstatement for your sake either."

Kurt settles into Blaine's arms easily and breathes. "I know."

The conversation is sparse; Blaine mutters something about a shower and Kurt expresses an interest in taking one together. But the two don't move. A companionable silence passes among them as the reality of what they've just done relaxes into their bones. Until the thought crosses Blaine's mind and he can't stay silent.

"So, tattoos, huh?"

Kurt smacks him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I've gotten several complaints about how Kurt and Blaine seem to be disregarding everything in the past because SEX and they think that the couple are NOT going to discuss things. So I think i'll clarify now that they WILL have a heart-to-heart, an extensive one, in the next chapter.
> 
> It may seem shallow and superficial that they are choosing to fuck instead of talk first, but...come on, guys, have you been following the story? It's about sex. It's also about feelings, but it's mainly about sex. Both of them are very fond of sex and they are very fond of each other and they've been waiting to fuck each other for a very long time.
> 
> People don't think rationally, especially out of passion, and that's what i'm trying to highlight here. It's not like communication isn't important, but it's never really been their priority. They're horny little fucks who are crazy for each other, so they're gonna fuck the first chance they get.
> 
> /justification.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait!

“We really should get cleaned up.” Kurt points out, but he only betrays his current mindset by snuggling closer into Blaine, his arms like tendrils around his waist. They’ve been laying here for an hour, both of them possessing very little desire to move. Blaine thinks there’s a mutual understanding that if they do move, alter their positions, the dream might dissipate and they’ll discover that they are still fighting, still not talking, still unaware of each other’s feelings.

 

Blaine exhales into Kurt’s hair, rubbing a hand up and down Kurt’s smooth arm. Kurt is so solid in this moment. He’s tangible and real and they just had sex for the very first time, and when Blaine can feel Kurt in his arms like this he knows that he’s not dreaming.

 

Though the stillness must be shattered eventually and the inevitable must come to light.

 

“Can we talk first?” Blaine says, the anxiety seeping into his voice in a way he’s sure doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“Yeah. Let’s talk.” Kurt agrees, kissing Blaine’s collarbone with fleeting lips.

 

Blaine figures the best way to go about this is head-on, since they’ve proven that they are excellent at distracting each other. He prepares himself for the emotional rollercoaster they’re about to embark on together, knowing that really, things can only get better from here.

 

“Why did you sleep with Adam?”

 

Kurt shifts in his arms to prop himself up on his elbow, raising the other hand to pet through Blaine’s curls affectionately before he answers. The action soothes Blaine, a soft smile breaching his face as Kurt smiles back. “Truthfully? Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to forget for a while.”

 

“So you chose to sleep with your ex?”

 

“He was there. He was familiar. And he wanted to.” Kurt explains, removing his hand from Blaine’s hair, and Blaine instantly misses the sedating motion. “Not much else was required at that moment, really.”

 

“He was there? I thought you hadn’t spoken in forever?” Blaine is trying as hard as possible not to be accusatory, he really just wants to understand. But he can’t deny the hurt that still bubbles inside of him.

 

“We ran into each other at a bar. We had a few drinks and flirted then…presto.” Kurt says with a banality that makes Blaine equal parts uneasy and relieved. Uneasy because the casualness in which Kurt dismisses it makes him feel like maybe Kurt feels like it was no big deal. Relieved because maybe that means that it really meant nothing at all to him and he’s not hung up over any of it.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Blaine says quietly not quite wanting to meet Kurt’s eyes.

 

“Of course.”

 

The question has been a source of discomfort for Blaine for a while now, mainly because he’s terrified of the answer. “If I hadn’t walked in that night, would you have told me later what you did?”

 

Kurt sighs nuzzling into Blaine’s neck. “Probably not, to be honest. I wouldn’t see the point.” Kurt’s fingers trace over Blaine’s chest in aimless patterns, but it does nothing to assuage the swirling in Blaine’s gut. “And I guess I can ask you the same question. Would you have told me that you were fucking Sebastian for free?”

 

Blaine inhales slowly, filling his lungs, and letting it out gradually as he considers the question. “Touché.”

 

Kurt looks up at Blaine, his hand stilling. “It’s not like we had an obligation to, Blaine. It would be more a courtesy than anything.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. We weren’t together. Weren’t even talking, really.” Blaine adds in, tilting his head to the side with a shrug. “I just would like to think that we were close enough that we would tell each other everything.”

 

“Blaine, you’re still my best friend. You’re still the person I want to talk to about whatever stupid shit I do. But the fact is some things would cause more trouble than good if we were to have brought them up to each other at the wrong time.” Blaine sighs gently, stroking a hand softly down Kurt’s back, nodding briefly in response. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Kurt asks, and Blaine can tell that Kurt is jumping through hoops to make his words come across as he intends them to.

 

Blaine tries to lose himself in Kurt’s hands as they roam idly over his body, caressingly in a subconscious manner that makes happiness boil in Blaine’s chest regardless of the instability of their conversation. Kurt is being so thoughtful, so honest with him. Blaine knows that he is making the right choice in choosing Kurt simply by the way Kurt can make him feel at a time like this where they’re laying themselves on the line. “No, you’re right. You really are right.”

 

“It’s not that I thought that not telling you was a good way to evade how I felt about you. I wouldn’t have told you because I knew it would make you unnecessarily upset. Which it did anyway, so I guess I was proven right. It’s not that I wouldn’t _want_ to have told you, Blaine.”

 

Blaine nods his head emphatically. “No, I get it, Kurt. You don’t need to explain anymore.”

 

Kurt sighs into Blaine’s neck, gripping his bare bicep as some sort of anchor, Blaine guesses. “I’m sorry, I’m over dramatizing all of this. I always do. I just don’t want—”

 

Blaine interrupts him promptly, cupping a hand onto Kurt’s jaw and tilting his head up to lock eyes with him in order to get the words across resoundingly. “Kurt. I love you. It’s ok and you don’t have to apologize.”

 

A wilted smile befalls Kurt’s lips at the reassurance, and Blaine can tell it’s Kurt trying to convince _himself_ to believe all of this, rather than Blaine.

 

Blaine lets the gravity settle between them, lets the dust particles in the air float to the ground before they ruck up some more. Kurt’s breathing is soothing to him in the silence of the apartment, his ears having trained out the cacophony of the surrounding establishments and the busy streets below long ago after learning that the noise never fully stops. Now, to him, it’s just Kurt’s soft sighs and his warm breath making goosebumps on his skin and fire in his heart.

 

To his surprise, Kurt breaks the renewed silence first. “So what are we, exactly?”

 

Blaine hums lengthily before responding a bit cheekily. “Very horny young men?”

 

Kurt slaps the back of his hand lightly onto Blaine’s chest with a smile as Blaine chuckles airily. “I’m serious! This is all complicated as shit and I want to know where we stand. What we’re going to do. If we’re even _going_ to be an actual couple or just fuck buddies or…”

 

“No way in hell we’re fuck buddies, Kurt, come on,” Blaine snorts, “We’re in love with each other, right? We have to be _something_. This isn’t a casual thing, this is the real deal here.”

 

“Of course it is,” Kurt whines just a little, as if he’s trying to further prove his devotion to Blaine in desperation. “You are absolutely the real thing for me, Blaine.”

 

“And you are for me. But the fact is,” Blaine sighs, suddenly fatigued by just the prospect of trying to figure out what in the hell they are and what their future holds. “The fact is, Kurt, that I’m leaving this in your hands.” Kurt makes a noise to protest, but Blaine silences him quickly, “And I know that’s a lot on your shoulders, but honestly, it really is your call. I will do whatever you want me to do. I’ll quit the sex work, I’ll quit doing whatever you want me to quit doing. You’re the one who’s been patient with me, so now I’m leaving it up to you. Because I love and trust you and I want you to be happy.”

 

“But this isn’t just about me, Blaine!” Kurt resists, sitting up in the bed to look at him properly. “This is a relationship, with two people, and both our opinions matter. I know we’ll have to compromise things, but I want you to be happy too. I can’t just tell you to change your whole life for my benefit; that’s not fair and it would not make me happy.”

 

Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I understand that, Kurt. But I want you to tell me what you want.” Blaine flutters open his eyes to take in Kurt, so gorgeous in his concern. “More than anything, I want to know that you will be okay with how we move forward. You’re the one who would have to deal with me sleeping with other men. I want you to be comfortable with me. Always.”

 

“I _am_ comfortable with you,” Kurt assures, tucking himself into Blaine’s arms once again to enforce his point. “Just like this.”

 

“But will you be when it’s three a.m. and I’m still not home?” Blaine poses, his chin resting on top of Kurt’s head.

 

“If you call or text me and tell me that, yes,” Kurt supplies. “That will be my requirement. Just tell me when you have a client, what he paid for, and how long you expect it to be. That’s all I need to know.”

 

“You’re gonna get jealous.”

 

“And I’ll fuck that out of my system when you come home.”

 

“What if I’m too tired?”

 

“Then I’ll fuck you while you sleep.”

 

“Kinky.”

 

“You’d know best, wouldn’t you?”

 

Blaine’s smile is broad when Kurt cranes his head upwards, stealing an upside-down kiss from Blaine’s lips in what is possibly the most uncomfortable and awkward position Blaine has ever experienced; and yet, it’s absolutely perfect. Blaine feels like such a doe-eyed, love-smitten idiot for even thinking this, thinking that uncomfortable could be perfect, but it only further proves how far gone he is with Kurt.

 

“This will only go on for a little while longer, I promise. I’ve been thinking for a while that it’s time I hang up the corsets and find a steadier job.” Blaine admits to Kurt, whose face scrunches in intrigue. “I mean, sex work is all well and good when you’re new to the city and you need to make ends meet. But I have money now, I have savings—a very good amount too—and it just think it’s about time.”

 

“How long is a little while?” Kurt asks quietly.

 

Blaine shrugs softly, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “When it feels like it’s time. And I’m able to find a job. Maybe three months. Six. But I promise, within a year’s time, it’ll be done with whether I have a job or not and we can tap into my savings.”

 

“You don’t need to do that, I can afford to maintain us for a little while. We can stow the savings for when we really need it. Or _you_ really need it.” Kurt alters, looking unsure.

 

Blaine smiles down at Kurt and says unquestionably, “When _we_ really need it.”

 

“Was that an acceptance to my offer?” Kurt grins back up at him.

 

Blaine breathes out a laugh, but nods. “Yes. It was an acceptance.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But now I feel like I have to make this official.” Blaine proclaims, and Kurt raises his eyebrows. Blaine scoots himself up to a sitting position, and guides Kurt up and into his lap, where Kurt sits happily once situated. “Kurt Hummel.” Blaine begins.

 

“Yes?” Kurt sings, a coy smile lining his lips.

 

Blaine’s hand comes up to drape along his cheek, under his chin, with nothing but affection and giddiness. When he asks, it’s as low and as intimate as he can make it. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

 

Kurt tips forward almost instantly, his forehead landing against Blaine’s with a blindingly beautiful grin. “Yes, Blaine. I would love that.” He presses his lips chastely to Blaine’s, mouths closed but hearts wide open, even as Blaine drags the point of his nose along the contours of Kurt’s face and he giggles at the sensation.

 

“I’m so happy.” Blaine breathes out, kissing Kurt’s cheek briefly.

 

“Me too.” Kurt cuddles up against him once more, placing kisses across his neck every now and then.

 

“Let’s go shower.” Blaine suggests, but his voice quickly goes mischievous when he tacks on, “And then not get clean in the shower until we get dirty again.”

 

Kurt practically purrs in agreement at the proposition, nipping at Blaine’s neck and sending sparks shooting up his spine in the most delicious way he can imagine. “Let’s go.”

 

And this time they finally do.

 

~*~

 

Sam is hesitant to go back to the apartment. He’d finished his workout half an hour ago, and worked out for a good two hours, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d open the door to find. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

 

On one hand, he could find Blaine curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing his eyes out because things hadn’t gone well.

 

On the other, he could be dancing around the kitchen making cookies in celebration of a new relationship.

 

There’s an entire spectrum of outcomes that Sam could open the door to, and to be honest, he just wants to delay it for a little while. So he sits at the coffee shop around the corner from the apartment and waits. He sips is coffee and rips off bits of a bagel, eating it slowly, and tries not to be too obvious about staring at the hot barista behind the counter. “Jessica” her nametag reads. Yeah, Jessica is a nice name. One he wouldn’t mind whispering into her ear while he fucked her into his mattress.

 

Ok, Sam hasn’t gotten laid in a few weeks, so he feels like he should be granted some fantasies. He thinks about what’s going on in his apartment right now, mulling over the thought that Blaine could be getting laid _right now_ , finally uniting with his wet dream in the flesh, and Sam is sitting here tearing apart a bagel.

 

He finally decides that’s fucked up and he has to at least _try_. He waits until the line dissipates before approaching the counter again, putting on the suave.

 

“So, Jessica, huh?”

 

The barista stares at him with an amused look for a moment before confirming. “Yeah, that would be my name. At least you can read.”

 

Sam smiles and leans forward a bit, lowering his voice. “I’m actually a pretty shit reader. But I’m pretty good at other things.”

 

Jessica raises her eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

 

“Well, impressions, for one.” Sam informs, before launching into his well-practiced Christopher Walken impression. The girl tosses her head back with an adorable laugh, her nose scrunching up with it.

 

“You’re good!”

 

Sam allows himself to preen silently for a moment at the perfectly delivered impression before daring to continue. “Maybe if you give me your number I can show you what else I can do.”

 

Jessica bites her lip for a second before letting it slide out again with a smile. “What can I get you?” she asks, unsheathing a small cardboard cup from the tower next to her and uncapping a sharpie.

 

Sam feels the rush of scoring a touchdown in his chest as he orders the first thing that comes to his mind, watching her smirk sexily as she marks the appropriate boxes on the cup. “And the name is Sam, by the way.”

 

The tip of her tongue peeks out of her lips as she scribbles the name on the cup. “Well, Sam, I’ll get that right out to you.” She says with a quick wink.

 

“How much do I owe?”

 

Her smirk intensifies at those words, and she leans in towards him with a whisper. “A night I’ll never forget.” She makes a point to display her writing on the cup, where seven bold, black digits stand out against the white cardboard, before rocking away from the counter and spinning around to get started on his drink.

 

Sam does a mental fist pump, taking a moment to blatantly stare at her ass through her jeans before lazing his way over to the pick-up counter.

 

Sam takes his drink to the streets, deciding that it was time he faced up to what ended up happening between Blaine and Kurt. At least he would be able to ride his high of Jessica the Barista up to the sixth floor.

 

He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before pushing it open.

 

It takes less than ten seconds for Sam to figure out the result.

 

He doesn’t need extra-sensory perception to tell that the echoing moans filling the apartment are Blaine’s, and they’re only echoing because they’re in the bathroom. In the shower, more specifically, from the sound of running water accompanying.

 

Sam makes a point to shut the front door _very_ loudly, and smiles with a bit of pride when he can hear Kurt yell, “Shit!” in response.

 

“Glad to see you two worked things out!” Sam shouts to the bathroom in the hallway.

 

“Fuck off, Sam!” Blaine shouts back, muffled by the doorway and the pattering of the shower.

 

“No! You two come out here, I want celebratory hugs!”

 

“Fuck off, Sam!” He hears again, this time definitely coming from Kurt.

 

“No love for the wingman! You guys are assholes!”

 

Blaine shouts back, louder, “Sam, I swear to god, I am stuffed to the brim with cock right now, can you _please_ give us ten minutes!”

 

“Or twenty!” Kurt pipes in.

 

“Fine! Just don’t slip and injure yourself, please! I’m not calling an ambulance!”

 

“I am highly experienced in the art of shower sex! Just go!” Blaine barks back.

 

Sam makes a point of producing boisterous laughter as he slams the front door shut behind him. He slides down onto the floor against the wall next to the door, and he can still hear the faint sounds of Blaine’s sex noises through the cracking drywall. Sam sips at his coffee happily, tracing over the numbers on the side with his finger.

 

Today had been a pretty good day for Sam Evans.


	12. Chapter 12

“God, fuck, fuck, fuck! Harder, harder, harder!”

 

“Jesus Christ, you don’t shut up, do you?”

 

“I would if you just…just fucking… _nnng_ yes, just like that, come on.”

 

Kurt holds back a laugh of incredulity, shaking his head back and forth as he holds Blaine’s hips and fucks into him according to Blaine’s ‘instructions’. “You are absolutely unbelievable!”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t— _fuck—_ love every second of it.” Blaine looks back at him with a smirk. As ridiculous as it seems, it still makes Kurt’s stomach swoop to see Blaine here on his bed while Rachel is out auditioning, being fucked as thoroughly as Kurt can manage. The smirk, the way he peers over his own shoulder to snag a glance at Kurt, the way he intersperses curses with moans and near-casual conversation—Kurt adores it.

 

“You sure seem to have a lot of experience with this. What are you, a whore?” Kurt teases, pinching the flesh of Blaine’s ass. Blaine snorts out loud, shaking his head just as fondly as Kurt had just a few moments prior.

 

“I’ll tell you right now that that joke isn’t funny now and it won’t be funny the next three times you say it before I break up with you.”

 

“You. Are no. Fun.” Kurt grunts, punctuating the words each with an especially harsh thrust.

 

“Says the man balls deep in my ass.” Blaine snarks. “You are perfectly— _shit_ —welcome to stick your cock in some other twink. Someone you find much more _fun_.” Kurt knows he’s joking, that they’re both so sickeningly in love with each other they could probably power a small city with it. That doesn’t stop him from flipping Blaine onto his back, his cock slipping out with the abrupt movement, and draping his body over Blaine’s entirely.

 

Kurt grins widely down at Blaine, who returns it as good as he gets, as Kurt strokes a finger down his cheek. “Nah. I think this one is a keeper.”

 

“Kurt…” Blaine says, awed, almost reverent, his eyes shimmering with something akin to wonder.

 

Kurt leans down to close the space between their lips, sharing something sweet and unparalleled that Kurt has never even been close to experiencing with another human being. And it happens every time they kiss. Even in the most frantic, fuck-me-now kisses it’s there. That even push-and-pull passing through them, flowing like the blood in their veins.

 

They part harmoniously, giggling like children, knocking noses and chests vibrating. Blaine’s leg hooks around Kurt’s thigh loosely, rubbing up and down in a way that feels much more intimate than it probably should.

 

“Are we gonna eighty-six the sex, then, and just cuddle like saps, or are we gonna finish what we started?” Kurt asks, really not minding either option despite the way he posed the question.

 

Blaine’s silent laughter ripples through his chest and into Kurt’s skin, and he can’t help but place a series of kisses across the broad expanse of his pectorals. “Well, I’m still kinda hard. So I’ll go with ‘finish what we started’ for five hundred, Alex,” Blaine jokes.

 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Can you not call me by another guy’s name in bed, please? Alex Trebek isn’t even that attractive so it’s not a compliment.”

 

Blaine looks momentarily appalled by that, slapping a hand over his heart. “Kurt! Alex Trebek is one of the sexiest men of the past two generations!”

 

Kurt props himself back up on fully extended arms, smacking a kiss to Blaine’s lips as he says, “Then go sneak in his bed, Mr. I’m Oblivious To The Fact That I Just Majorly Offended My Boyfriend By Calling A Seventy-Something Old Man Sexier Than Him.”

 

“I did not!” Blaine protests, following Kurt up to chase his lips. “I said he was _one_ of the sexiest!”

 

“What the hell is it with you and old men? First Mr. Rogers, and now Alex Trebek…I can’t compete with your silver foxes. I am but a couple decades old,” Kurt laments teasingly.

 

“It’s a thing, okay? I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Blaine says, looking like a kicked puppy. “And I don’t want either of their beds, I want yours.” Blaine pouts, and it’s so fucking adorable that Kurt can’t even pretend to be mad.

 

Kurt stifles a cooing noise that he wants to make, instead closing his mouth over Blaine’s again to comfort his beautiful and ridiculous boyfriend. “You _are_ in mine, baby. And you’re perfectly welcome here anytime you like.”

 

Blaine’s expression is akin to a child’s when they get a free balloon from the grocery store. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

 

Kurt just sighs, “I know” before getting a hand around his cock and sliding it slowly back into Blaine, watching his boyfriend throw his head back with a long, drawn out moan at the penetration.

 

“Yeah, _definitely_ the best boyfriend.”

***

 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” Blaine mouths wetly at the back of Kurt’s neck as he fumbles to unlock the door to the loft, which will be blissfully empty (well, except for them) once he can manage the task. “Wanna suck your fucking huge cock so bad, hurry up.”

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Kurt chuckles as he finally slides the door open and they nearly fall through the doorway in their haste. Kurt slams Blaine up against the closed metal door and Blaine instantly has his fists in Kurt’s shirt and is smashing their lips together brutally.

 

“Just need you. So fucking bad.” Blaine doesn’t waste another moment with idle prattle before dropping to his knees and practically ripping Kurt’s jeans apart in his eagerness to pull Kurt’s cock out and force it down his throat.

 

Kurt wobbles forward, slapping both hands against the cool metal of the door to keep himself upright as Blaine takes to Kurt’s dick like a camel to an oasis. Blaine’s mouth slurps around him loudly, bobbing and sucking and choking just a little in his alacrity as his fingers bruise at Kurt’s hips.

 

“Jesus Christ, B. I’m so not going to last if you keep that up,” Kurt pants out, unable to keep from rocking his hips into Blaine’s greedy mouth.

 

“Don’t want you to,” Blaine rasps out as he slips off for mere seconds to speak before taking him back in. “Come in my fucking mouth. Don’t warn me, just do it.”

 

“God…” Kurt moans, fucking his cock into Blaine’s mouth as Blaine’s hands on him urge him to do so. “You take it so good, baby. So fucking good.”

 

Blaine’s eyelashes flutter beautifully as he works Kurt over, wrapping a hand around the base of Kurt and stroking just how Kurt loves it. Before Kurt even realizes it he’s spilling hot and hard into Blaine’s mouth. Colors pop in Kurt’s vision as Blaine moans and sucks at him, swallowing him down easy and thirsty.

 

It only takes a few heel-presses of Blaine’s hand against his own cock before he’s gasping out his release with his forehead pressed sweaty against Kurt’s hip, still completely encased in his pants.

 

“God, that felt good,” Blaine says, completely out of breath.

 

“Yeah…” Kurt agrees, catching his own breath as he leans forward with his forearms on the door. “You should go sex crazy more often.”

 

“You always have me sex crazy.” Blaine grins up at him.

 

“Not like this,” Kurt points out, running a hand through Blaine’s sweat-damp curls below him.

 

Blaine pushes up into Kurt’s hand, positively puppy-like in his post-orgasm fog. “Definitely noted.”

 

 

***

 

 

“You’re gonna— _fuck_ —you’re gonna kill me, Kurt!” Blaine laughs out, but pushes back onto Kurt anyway from where he’s pinned against the wall with Kurt’s cock inside him. “I can’t keep up with all this sex!”

 

“You can and you will,” Kurt says simply, biting a little too possessively at Blaine’s earlobe and hearing Blaine hiss at the sharp pain. Kurt tucks a hand under his knee and shoves it up the wall to get a better angle. “Hold,” Kurt instructs, and Blaine obeys willingly, taking the place of Kurt’s hand on his own leg and giving a little hop on his one grounded foot to assure his balance, gripping the edge of Kurt’s vanity to their left to ensure that he doesn’t just fall right over.

 

“I don’t remember auditioning to be a fucking gymnast when I agreed to date you, baby,” Blaine jests, indicating to his tipsy positioning.

 

“Oh, my bad, I thought that came with the territory,” Kurt banters back, fucking up into Blaine roughly and hearing him grunt with the impact. Blaine white knuckles at the vanity to keep from toppling with the force of it. “And don’t pretend you haven’t been fucked in every position possible, Anderson, because I won’t believe it.”

 

“You wound my soul, Snookums,” Blaine teases, letting out a small gasp when Kurt hits just the right spot inside of him.

 

Kurt halts inside Blaine completely at that remark, stilling for several very long seconds before saying, “If you value your penis you will never call me that again.” The next thrust is harder, more punishing, and a breathy laugh-moan escapes Blaine’s mouth in response.

 

“Yes, sir, Commander Bossy,” and Kurt can practically _hear_ the eye-rolling in his voice.

 

“You are really fucking asking for it today, aren’t you?” Kurt says, only half-joking, continuing to roll his hips up into Blaine.

 

“Mmm, don’t I always, though?”

 

“Remind me again why I put up with you?”

 

“It’s my luscious ass.”

 

“Ah, that’s right. Almost forgot.” Kurt nods. “Now bend over the vanity for me, so I can give it a proper fucking.”

 

Blaine sighs in relief, dropping his leg back to the ground and allowing Kurt to slip out of him to bend himself over the side of the wood structure. “Anything to get me back on two feet again…”

 

“You’re so cute.” Kurt smiles with a little pout, sliding behind Blaine once again, giving his cock a few pumps before lining himself up with Blaine’s hole once again. Just for shits, and because he loves fucking with Blaine almost as much as he loves _fucking_ Blaine, he barks out, “Knee up on the desk. Now.”

 

Blaine pouts back at him, but corresponds by lifting one leg all the way up to rest on the flat surface. “You’re mean.”

 

“You chose me, _Snookums_ ,” He sasses back.

 

The groan Blaine lets out when Kurt presses back in doesn’t argue.

 

***

 

“Really, Kurt? In your _cubicle_?”

 

“Everyone is out to lunch! We’ll be fast. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

 

“Firmly in place with my common sense, which happens to be miles away from yours.”

 

“I’ll let you pick the movie tonight with no complaints.”

 

“…No complaints?”

 

“Not one.”

 

“Fine. How do you want me, baby?”

 

“Quiet. I want you quiet.”

 

“That was a given, Kurt.”

 

“In my lap. Right here.”

 

“Your chair is going to roll away underneath us, baby. We’re gonna end up in the hallway.”

 

“Ye of little faith.”

 

“Ye of little sense.”

 

“Do you want to pick the movie or not?”

 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

 

“And the same to you. Now take your pants off.”

 

***

  
“Blaine— _Christ._ We literally have _twenty minutes_ before we have to pick up my dad. We can’t—”

 

“Don’t fuck with me, Kurt, you know full well that we can. We’ve done ten before.” Blaine makes a very convincing argument as his teeth sink into Kurt’s neck, his collarbone, down his exposed stomach, his hips…a _very_ convincing argument. “You don’t even have to get me off. Just let me suck you; we both know I can be quick.”

 

Blaine doesn’t even wait for Kurt’s response before he has him out of his pants, thick and red and already dripping. Blaine sinks over him with practiced ease and immediately goes to town on him. Kurt’s head hits the pillows and his hands find Blaine’s curls.

 

“My dad is gonna know, Blaine. I don’t know how, but he is going to know we had sex before we picked him up. He just fucking _knows_ these things. And that is _not_ the first impression you want to give him.” Kurt whimpers when Blaine presses his tongue perfectly under the head of his cock, tightening his grip on Blaine’s hair in reaction.

 

“A little late for that now,” Blaine mutters against the side of Kurt’s dick, sucking kisses up and down the heated flesh. “And he won’t know, Kurt. Stop being so paranoid.”

 

“It’s not paranoi- _ah_!” Kurt cries out as Blaine strokes a dry finger against Kurt’s hole and presses, causing Kurt to thrust up and the spit-and-precome-slick head of Kurt’s cock to slide up Blaine’s cheek wetly before Blaine can close his mouth back over him. “Not paranoia, just experience. In high school, he _always_ knew.”

 

Blaine’s lips remain firmly around Kurt, but one of his eyebrows rise in disbelief. Rolling his eyes, Blaine takes Kurt further into his mouth until he’s bumping at the back of his throat, and then deeper.

 

“Oh my fucking _god_ , Blaine,” Kurt gasps out, feeling his eyes slipping towards the back of his head at how fucking _amazing_ Blaine’s throat feels swallowing around him. “God, yeah, okay. Suck me, baby. Choke on it.”

 

He can see the semblance of a smirk on Blaine’s stretched-wide lips, but Kurt is nearly too far gone to come up with a witty retort and just settles for watching Blaine bob up and down on his cock with the upmost finesse and smiling, watery eyes.

 

***

 

“And I don’t have ‘bj face’, right?” Blaine asks, honest concern and panic in his expression as he bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting at the baggage claim of the airport for Kurt’s father.

 

Kurt smiles fondly, ruffling Blaine’s hair affectionately. “No, sweetie. You have ‘Blaine face’, and it’s absolutely adorable and beautiful and my father is going to adore you.”

 

“Bullshit. He already thinks I’m a no-good whore,” Blaine scoffs, unable to keep still out of nervousness. He wrings his hands over and over, stretching his neck to each side, hopping from foot to foot—looking more like he’s prepping to play in a basketball game than meeting his boyfriend’s father.

 

Kurt places a firm hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “He does _not_ , Blaine. Will you please chill out? Your jittering is making _me_ nervous.” Blaine winces in apology and finally stills, but continues to twiddle his hands together and tug at his lower lip with his teeth.

 

“Kurt, he’s going to _hate_ me. There is absolutely _nothing_ about me that parents find appealing. I’ve never even met anyone’s parents before!” Blaine says, the tone of his voice edging on hysteria.

 

Kurt huffs out a breath, fixing both of his hands on either of Blaine’s shoulders and forcing Blaine to look at him. “Blaine, listen to me. My dad will _not_ hate you any more than he’s required to hate my significant other by the Father’s Handbook.”

 

Blaine’s eyes widen comically, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “There’s a _Father’s Handbook?_ And you didn’t _tell me_?”

 

Kurt’s lips lilt upwards in an amused grin. “Blaine, I’m joking! There’s not an actual…god, Blaine, _calm down_.” Kurt strokes down Blaine’s sides, gripping onto his hips and planting a solid kiss to his lips. “He’s going to love you because I love you. Just don’t cave under his intimidation techniques, okay? He’s just going to size you up a little. And if he goes too far, I’ll tell him to let up. I promise.”

 

Blaine lets out a heavy breath and nods. Right then, Kurt catches sight of his baseball capped father in the midst of the exodus from the terminals. “Okay, I see him. Just _breathe_.”

 

“Kurt!” Blaine actually squeaks it out, total trepidation rippling across his face. Kurt sighs, and he sees his father break out in a grin as soon as he spots Kurt. Kurt doesn’t make any indication to his father that he’s noticed his presence; he cups Blaine’s face softly in both hands and pours every ounce of courage he possesses into Blaine through his mouth. Blaine sighs into the kiss, sliding his hands around Kurt’s waist for an anchor, and keeping his hold even when they break apart.

 

“It’s showtime, okay? Just be you. He will love you,” Kurt assures once more, before finally glancing over Blaine’s shoulder and snagging the eye of his approaching father. He doesn’t seem alarmed by the moment of intimacy he just witnessed, just looks elated to see Kurt again. Only then does he pull himself out of Blaine’s embrace to race over to his father.

 

“Dad!” His hands instantly fly over his shoulders to hug him around the neck and inhale the memorable and comforting scent of his father.

 

“Hey, kiddo!” His father’s arms wrap around him just as firmly, his chin hooking over Kurt’s shoulder. “God, I missed you.”

 

“You too, dad.” They pull apart, and they’re both beaming. Kurt really has missed his father so much, having been months since they last saw each other face to face.

 

He sees him jerk his head upwards in Blaine’s direction subtly. “So, that him?”

 

Kurt cranes his neck to peer back at Blaine over his shoulder. Blaine’s eyes are fixed religiously on his own feet, and Kurt notices how his hands clench and flex over and over at his sides. God, Kurt never imagined that Blaine would be _this_ nervous.

 

“Yes dad, that’s him,” Kurt says, turning back to face his father and giving him a look of borderline desperation. “And _please_ , I’m _begging_ you. Go easy on him. He is two seconds away from shitting his pants he’s so terrified. _Please_ be nice.”

 

Burt chuckles good-naturedly, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder. “I make no promises.”

 

“ _Dad_ ,” Kurt says, more sternly this time. “I swear to god, you are going to kill him—”

 

Burt laughs through a smile, pressing a paternal kiss to Kurt’s temple. “I’m kidding around, Kurt. I’ll go easy on him.”

 

“Thank you,” Kurt breathes out. “Wait here, okay?” Burt nods, and Kurt gives his father one more look-to-kill before scurrying back to Blaine. He’s still studying the floor tiles. “Come on, baby.”

 

Blaine raises his head to Kurt, a look of determination on his face. “Okay. It’ll be great, right?”

 

“It will be wonderful, Blaine.” Kurt smiles encouragingly, bumping his shoulder against his boyfriend’s as he twines their fingers together and leads them over to his father. “Dad? This is Blaine Anderson.”

 

He sees Blaine swallow shallowly before shooting a hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine manages. Burt smiles, a bit amused Kurt can tell from experience, but takes Blaine’s hand firmly.

 

“You too, kid. You seem to have made my boy pretty happy.”

 

There’s no mistaking the blush that blooms on Blaine’s cheeks at the words, and Kurt would bet his entire McQueen collection that Blaine is fighting as hard as he can to not think about the blow job he gave Kurt before they left and how Kurt had told him how happy Blaine has made him. Kurt had meant it as a confidence boost at the time, but he’s pretty sure it’s having the exact opposite effect now.

 

“I…I’ve tried very hard to, sir. But I could never be good enough for him.”

 

“No, you couldn’t,” Burt says simply, and Kurt can almost hear the color drain from Blaine’s face before Burt continues. “But it means a hell of a lot that you’re trying to be, and it looks like it’s working.”

 

“I…thank you, sir.” Blaine’s face grows even hotter in embarrassment, and that’s when Kurt hooks an arm around Blaine’s waist comfortingly and squeezes at his side.

 

“He’s _more_ than good enough for me, dad. He’s perfect for me,” Kurt assists in an attempt to get his father’s focus off of Blaine for just a second. Blaine’s hand flexes at Kurt’s side in appreciation for the words and he coaxes Blaine into a kiss—a chaste one for his father’s sake, but enough to instill some confidence in his boyfriend.

 

“Alright, alright, I believe you kid. You don’t have to go all smoochy to prove it.” Burt rolls his eyes when he says it, but Kurt knows his dad isn’t annoyed or disgusted. He just has to pretend to be—another chapter of that Father’s Handbook.

 

Kurt’s nose scrunches in a laugh and addresses his father. “Okay, let’s get out of here and grab some lunch. You have to be starving. Besides, Rachel won’t even be back to the apartment until four anyway, so you can have some preparation time before you’re hit with the Berry train again.”

 

“Sounds good, kiddo. This airport is giving me heart palpitations,” Burt teases and heads to the luggage carousel that has just started to turn.

 

Kurt turns to face Blaine and smile. “See? Everything is fine, Blaine.”

 

“I think I’m going to puke,” Blaine mutters, but he smiles shyly through it and allows Kurt to pull him forward toward the carousel.

 

***

 

“He seems like a decent guy, Kurt, I’ll give that to you.”

 

Blaine had escaped for the night, muttering something to Burt about “errands”, but they both know what he’s about to go and do. Burt is sipping a beer on Kurt’s couch, the TV playing in the background, and Kurt only a little on edge from the day’s adventures with his two favorite men meeting for the first time.

 

“Dad, he really is. And I _know_ it’s hard to get past what he does, but you have to know that he is so good to me. Always.”

 

“I can see that, kid. The boy is head over heels for you, no question about it.” However, Kurt hears the _but_ in his voice before his father even says it. “But you have to be careful, you know that Kurt.”

 

Kurt sighs heavily, a little whine creeping in as well. “ _Dad_ , I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like the adult I am. I’m not naïve or love-blind. I know the risks and the hardships, okay? But I also know _Blaine_ , probably better than anyone. So you just have to trust me when I say that we’re both in this, heart and soul, and for the long haul.”

 

Burt nods, wiping the dew from his cold bottle. “I do trust you, Kurt. But it’s my job as a father to worry.”

 

Kurt smiles sympathetically, knowing how much that he means to his father. Kurt is all he has left in this world. “Can I tell you something? Something that Blaine and I haven’t told anybody else?”

 

Burt looks a little anxious. “Is it something I won’t approve of?”

 

Kurt laughs, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite, actually. Blaine is…he’s going to quit the sex work. Soon.”

 

Burt’s eyes widen. “Oh? Is that what he said or—”

 

“He’s not bullshitting, dad. We have it all worked out and as soon as the timing is right…”

 

“That’s wonderful, Kurt,” Burt says earnestly, placing a fatherly hand on Kurt’s knee. “And I am so excited for you both.”

 

“Thanks, dad.” Kurt cups his hand over his father’s and squeezes. “I’m going to give you grandchildren, dad. I promise.”

 

Burt holds up a hand in protest. “Alright, now let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m not nearly old enough to be a grandpa.”

 

Kurt smiles and winks, lifting himself from the couch and wrapping his arms tight around his father. “I love you so much dad.”

 

“I love you too, Kurt. Always. And one day I hope I’ll love Blaine too.”

 

“You will, dad. You definitely will.”

 

***

 

“Oh my god, he said he likes me?” Blaine says excitedly, his voice jolting up and down with his movement.

 

“Yes, baby he did. He likes you. I told you he would.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I know. You’re so smart. But _god_ can you believe we didn’t even get caught _once_? Not in the kitchen or the bathroom or the living room couch—”

 

“Oh, he knew, Blaine. He just didn’t tell you,” Kurt giggles. “He hinted at _me_ and I got the full blunt of it.”

 

Blaine’s face goes horrified, digging his fingernails into Kurt’s ribs. “He _did_? Fuck!”

 

“And he _still_ likes you! Imagine that!”

 

“I have no idea how the hell…”

 

“I do,” Kurt grins affectionately. “You’re impossible not to love, even when you’re doing nefarious things to me while my father is under the same roof.”

 

“I think you’re biased.”

 

Kurt sighs fondly at Blaine, stroking his thumbs across Blaine’s hipbones. "No, I’m honest. Now can we _please_ stop discussing my father while you’re riding my cock?”

 

Blaine laughs out loud before he leans down swiftly to suck Kurt’s tongue into his mouth dirtily, grinding his ass down onto Kurt’s cock. “Aye, aye, Captain.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR RAPE AND ASSAULT. Descriptions are vague, but they are there, so please be careful.

“You know, you didn’t have to drop me off Kurt. Or…walk me off?” Blaine says, crinkling an eyebrow as he tries to come up with the proper name.

 

Kurt shrugs, knocking his shoulder against Blaine’s as they arrive at his designated corner. “I just like staring at you in that outfit and knowing that everything beneath it is mine.”

 

It’s obvious that Kurt likes his outfit tonight, because he really has been checking Blaine out ever since he got dressed. The black fashion corset hugs along his waist and hips, stopping just below his pecks. His ass is clad in tight, spandex shorts, accompanying the silk of his corset with a matching shade of black. Blaine had gone the extra mile and snapped garters to his fishnet stockings that fall just shy of his shorts. The look is completed with his signature Doc Martins.

 

Kurt kept pinching his ass on the way over and making him jump with a yelp and a smile. Blaine always retaliated with a biting kiss to Kurt’s lips and a muttered “I love you”, which Kurt returned every time.

 

Blaine leans back against the familiar wall, resting the sole of his shoe flat against the worn brick of the abandoned building. He smirks at Kurt as his boyfriend drags his eyes over his body once more, lingering. “You gonna stand there all night and watch? Because I charge for that.”

 

“God, you just look so good,” Kurt says, a moan slipping into his voice. “Save some stamina for me tonight, yeah? I think I’m going to need to fuck you good and proper while you’re still in that outfit.”

 

“Mmm, my baby wants to fuck me in my work clothes, huh? That’s kinky.”

 

“You’re wearing fishnets and a _corset_ , B,” Kurt whines, tugging at the base of the latter garment. “That isn’t work clothes, it’s _sin_. It’s cruel.”

 

“They’re _my_ work clothes, Sweets,” Blaine corrects, pulling Kurt’s hands from his corset. “And you know better than to touch the merchandise while I’m on the clock. Unless you’re willing to pay.”

 

Blaine absolutely _adores_ playing with Kurt like this. Loves teasing him about the work Blaine does and showing Kurt just what he can’t have until he comes home to him. And Kurt would never admit it, but Blaine knows that he loves it too. It’s a foreign kind of scandalous that gets them both off.

 

But Kurt isn’t having it as easily tonight. He regrips the hem of Blaine’s corset and _yanks_ , hauling Blaine against him and slamming into his chest with an audible _oof_. Kurt’s lips shine from this close, his heart beats into Blaine’s chest, and he is so fucking beautiful that Blaine still cannot believe he’s his. “ _You’re_ gonna have to start paying real fucking quick if you keep up that little smartass act of yours, you little slut.”

 

Blaine swallows, blinking up at Kurt as he tries to take even breaths. Blaine loves it when Kurt gets possessive. “Yes, Sir.”

 

Kurt hums in approval before smashing a kiss to Blaine’s lips and releasing him entirely. Blaine stumbles back, a bit dazed, into the wall to lean against it once more. “I’ll see you later tonight, baby. And remember what I said about what I’m going to do to you, because I don’t go back on my words. Do I?”

 

Blaine shakes his head, a little too turned on to speak. Kurt blows him a final kiss before turning on his heel and heading back towards his apartment. He’s out of sight in less than a minute.

 

God _damn_ Blaine is lucky.

 

He’s over half-way through his first cigarette of the night when he’s approached for the first time.

 

And it blindsides him.

 

“So, the old ball-and-chain is letting you out to play, huh?”

 

“Sebastian…what are you doing here?” He hasn’t lost his signature two-faced grin or his expensive tastes. He looks better than ever, actually, leaning right up on the wall beside Blaine—dangerously close, he thinks, far too close. Blaine’s throat tightens, his hands clench and release, and he nearly cringes when Sebastian plucks the cigarette right from between his lips and slips it between his own for a strong drag. He blows it out right in Blaine’s face.

 

Blaine cannot _believe_ he once found that sexy.

 

Sebastian holds the cigarette back out to Blaine, but he simply stares down at it. He doesn’t even want to touch it anymore. Sebastian shrugs, a “ _your loss_ ” apparent in his face as he inhales again.

 

“Bas, I said _what_ are you doing here?” Blaine repeats, a little more than irritated.

 

“And I asked how you got off for good behavior. What the hell are _you_ still doing out here?”

 

“This never stopped, Sebastian. Kurt is fine with it. It’s a job, he understands that. Now what the _fuck_ are you doing _here_?”

 

“What am I always here for?” Sebastian announces, his words coming out muddled around the cigarette as he holds his hands out in a broad gesture.

 

“Bullshit. You haven’t set foot here since I turned you down. It’s been _weeks_ since I’ve seen you, Bas. Don’t try to play it cool, like nothing ever happened.” Blaine is being snippy, and he’s well aware. But Sebastian can’t _really_ expect to just return like this and get the welcome wagon.

 

Sebastian drops the butt to the pavement and grounds it out with his heel, letting the last wisp of smoke curl upwards into the night air. “Cool your jets, kid. I’m just looking for some ass. You _are_ a hooker, aren’t you?”

 

Blaine _glares_. “Fuck you, I am _not_ a kid. You know that very well. And if you wanted ass there are a million and one places you could get it that are not this particular corner of New York.”

 

“I want a fuck that I know is good, okay? You never know unless you’ve had them before, and we both know that you’re the best.”

 

Blaine raises his chin upwards, concentrating on the night sky. “Yes, we do. And we both also know that you and me is not an option anymore.”

 

“I’m not _asking_ for anything but a fuck, Blaine. _Just_ a fuck. You know better than _anyone_ what the term ‘just a fuck’ means. You know how worthless a fuck can be.”

 

Blaine snaps his head downward to look at Sebastian. “It _wouldn’t_ be just a fuck, Sebastian, and you are perfectly aware of that fact. It would be more, no matter what we did. You can’t erase history, Bas. What happened, happened. I _turned you down_ , okay? I chose Kurt. And I’d choose him again and again and again. And while what we had was great for a long time, it’s over. So you need to move on and find a new cherry ass to fuck.”

 

Sebastian’s wingtip shoe scuffs the ground _hard_ as Blaine finishes, Sebastian staring down at it with resentment that Blaine knows is really for him. “Goddamnit, Blaine…”

 

Blaine sighs, pushing his curls back with his hand from his forehead and then propping it on his hip. “Sebastian, I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. You’re amazing and gorgeous and rich and experienced and the perfect man, for _someone else_. I found my perfect guy, and I’m keeping him. I’m not erasing you from my memory; you’ll always be there. We had amazing fucks and some unforgettable times, but that’s all it will ever be.”

 

When Sebastian looks up at him…god, Blaine has _never_ seen him so sad. “I hate him, Blaine. I’m never not going to hate that guy.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I think he’s fucking scum and I don’t think he treats you right and I think you could do so much better.”

 

“I know you think that. And you’re entitled to. But that doesn’t change anything.”

 

“I will _always_ believe you should have chosen me.”

 

“I know. Go home, Bas.”

 

Sebastian nods, letting his gaze linger on Blaine for a moment before turning away and taking a few steps. But he stops and he turns back. He doesn’t look at Blaine. He just crouches down, grabs the crushed cigarette butt from the pavement, and slips it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket before standing again and taking off once more.

 

Blaine watches him until he disappears around the next street corner, and he has the haunting feeling that was the last he’ll ever see of Sebastian Smythe. Blaine isn’t sure how he feels about it, but he knows it’s for the best.

 

So he takes out another cigarette and starts to smoke away the memory of what just transpired.

 

“You look like you could use a brutal going over, baby.”

 

Blaine’s head jerks up to see a pristine burgundy Maserati pulled up to the curb, the passenger window rolled down to reveal an older, stranger in the driver’s seat. The man inside smiles, crow’s feet branching from his eyes. He’s certainly not much to look at, but Blaine finds that often in New York. They can’t all be…well, they can’t all be Sebastians. Sometimes the best fucks are found in the least attractive packages.

 

Blaine just sighs and nods, thrusting himself off the brick. “You have no idea.”

 

“What’s your rate, Sugar?”

 

Blaine leans into the open window as the man finagles his wallet out of his back pocket. “Forty per job, eighty per fuck. Any more than that and you break out your calculator.”

 

Blaine would have to be blind not to notice the dense row of Benjamins packing his wallet. The man raises an eyebrow at him as he sets a solitary hundred on the passenger seat and closes his wallet up again. “How about we start with a hundred, and depending on how well you scream we’ll up the ante.”

 

Blaine smirks, tugging the car handle and feeling it open up under his palm quietly and smoothly. He seizes the bill and stuffs it in his spandex shorts before sliding into the car and shutting the door behind him. “Well, Sir, I’ve been told I have quite the voice box. So I suppose you’re in for an empty wallet by the time we’re done.”

 

The man chuckles darkly, reaching a hand over the center console to start rubbing Blaine through his thin shorts, right over his hardening cock, as he pulls away from the curb. “I love me a screamer. The fun ones always scream.”

 

Blaine moans loudly at his client’s movements, laying back into the expensive leather seat and letting his eyes close as he spreads his legs wide to give the man more room to work with as he drives. “Well call me Pipes, Sugar Daddy, ‘cause you’ve just caught yourself the pick of the lot.”

 

“Oh, I can tell, baby. I can tell.”

 

***

 

The summer night air is warm, but he’s shivering.

 

His fishnets are torn to shreds, matching the vocal cords inside his throat.

 

The man had wanted him to scream.

 

And yeah, Blaine had screamed. But not in the way he thought he would.

 

Not out of protest. Fear. _Pain_.

 

The second the man had locked the doors of the car and rolled up the windows, Blaine sensed something wasn’t right. When the man parked his expensive car in an empty backlot, Blaine _knew_ something was wrong. And then there was a gun to his head, forcing him into the backseat of the car to lay flat on his back.

 

It only comes in flashes. The cool metal against his skin, the rough hands ripping the front of his corset open like it was made of paper. The face wasn’t friendly anymore. There was no condom. No extra lube. But there was rope around his wrists. And there was a knife. _God_ , there was a _knife_.

 

Blaine feels himself getting sick thinking about it, and he heaves onto the pavement, clutching his stomach as the contents within manifest themselves a second time.

 

His jaw is bruised, he knows that much. His wrists probably are as well from how hard he has struggled, how vigorously he had yanked and tugged until he finally got his wrists free long after he’d escaped. His ass burns like all hell, but he’s so glad he’d gotten away before the guy came inside of him. He’s still at risk for whatever that shitbag might have had, but he can only hope it’s something treatable. He won’t allow himself to imagine something worse.

 

The shards of glass from the window left dozens upon dozens of crimson slits in his skin, all over his arms, his abdomen, his legs, his face. He has no idea how he found the strength to kick the window through, but he was still wearing his boots and that probably helped. Kneeing the guy in the crotch wasn’t as hard, and Blaine didn’t think, just dove through the shattered window frame of the car. He landed on his arm, and it’s probably fucked up too, but Blaine didn’t think. He just ran. Ran for his fucking life until his lungs gave out and he couldn’t breathe through the tears.

 

He’d called the cops through a payphone, and it sounded like they caught the guy, but Blaine refused to give them his real name. Made up some bullshit moniker and address and pretended to be a fake witness to the situation because, hell, Blaine could still be arrested for prostitution if he was caught. But they’d find the guy, the gun and knife in his car, the blood on the seats and Blaine’s torn up outfit. Hopefully they’ll lock him up as well.

 

He doesn’t call Kurt until he’s sure he’s emptied his stomach. Luckily his cellphone was firmly held in place by his elastic garter or else there’s no doubt he would have lost that as well.

 

“Kurt?” He tries is absolute hardest to sound normal, not wanting to scare Kurt right off the bat.

 

“Hey, baby. It’s early, what’s up?”

 

Blaine tries for light when he says, “I don’t think you’ll be able to get your fantasy fuck out of me tonight in my outfit.”

 

Kurt sounds thoroughly confused now. “What?”

 

“I’m done.” Blaine says. The way he says it only scratches the surface of what he really means, and it’s intentional.

 

“You’re done for the night already? I mean, not that I wouldn’t love to have you in my bed, of course, but it’s only, like, eighty-thirty. And why won’t I be able to fuck you?”

 

Blaine swallows thickly, clenching his eyes shut as he speaks, and his voice his destroyed. He hadn’t quite noticed that before. “No, Kurt. I’m done with everything. This whole job. I’m done. I’m finished.” Because Blaine is. They’d been talking about when would be the right time to stop, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it to be this soon, but tonight opened his eyes a litter wider than he’d hoped. He could have been _killed_. He still could have caught something from that guy that he doesn’t know about yet.

 

No matter what anyone will try to tell him, sex workers _can_ be raped on the job, and Blaine… _was_. He was _raped._ That word makes bile rise up in Blaine’s throat, but he swallows it down quickly.

 

Kurt is silent, but Blaine can _hear_ Kurt’s calculations over the phone. And then there’s panic. “Blaine, what the hell happened tonight?”

 

Blaine fails to stifle a sob and then the tears start up. “Kurt, can you please come get me?”

 

“Blaine, _what in the living **fuck** happened?!_ ”

 

“Kurt, _please!_ I’ll explain, just _please_ come get me _now_. I’m on Broadway and Lexington. For god’s sake, Kurt, _please_ save your questions. I’m…I’m fine I just need you, okay?” Blaine can’t stop the hiccupping that appears between words as the tears flow freely.

 

“Okay! God, I’m leaving now I promise I’ll be right there!”

 

Blaine doesn’t wait for any more conversation, just hangs up and curls into a ball as drunks and hippies and tourists and all sorts mill around the street, not casting him a second glance, despite his shirtlessness and his torn fishnets and the fact that the only thing on his body is spandex shorts and Doc Martins. It’s New York, after all. He’s not an oddity. Not a spectacle.

 

But _god_ , Blaine just wants to die. He feels so sick, so broken down, so hurt, and he just wants it to _stop_.

 

Kurt can make it stop. But he still has to wait. Kurt’s apartment isn’t far, and he’s not sure if it would be faster to run or take a taxi.

 

His question is answered minutes later when a bright yellow taxi comes speeding around the corner, and pulls up at the curb, Kurt throwing himself out before it comes to a complete stop.

 

He freezes when he takes in the state of Blaine. Then his name comes out broken on Kurt’s lips. “ _Blaine_.”

 

Blaine bolts up, throwing himself into Kurt’s arms and finally _sobbing_ , letting every ounce of hurt flow out of him as he clutches Kurt so close. He hardly registers Kurt jostling him into the taxi and ordering him hurriedly to take them back to the apartment.

 

Blaine doesn’t stop crying until he’s on the couch at Kurt’s apartment and Kurt is rocking him back and forth, shushing him and kissing his head. Kurt rocks him until his breathing slows back to normal and the tears have dried and Blaine feels some semblance of himself again in Kurt’s arms.

 

“Blaine, you have to tell me what happened.” Kurt’s voice is soft. Insistent, but only for the right reasons.

 

Blaine takes a deep breath before he regales. “I got in his car. He locked the doors, and I couldn’t unlock them. He drove me to a deserted place. And he...he had a gun. Forced me into the backseat. He…he tied my wrists, r-ripped my clothes. He didn’t— _god_ —he didn’t _use_ anything Kurt, he just _forced himself in_ and I…but I got out and I ran and I just…I just…” Blaine starts hyperventilating about three-quarters of the way through and Kurt pulls him forward again, shushing him. But this time he can feel Kurt shaking, hear him sniffling.

 

“I called the cops. I think they got him. But I’m…god I was so _scared_ , Kurt. So scared I wasn’t going to get back to you.”

 

Kurt sobs then, clutching Blaine harder against him. “No, no, it’s—you’re here, Blaine. You’re here and you’re safe. _I’m_ here, and we’re together, and we’ll always be together, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

They don’t speak for a long time after that. They hold each other. They cry quietly. And eventually they stumble to Kurt’s sectioned off portion of the room and fall onto the bed. Within minutes he’s asleep, and he’s pretty sure Kurt is too.

 

~*~

 

“I see _someone_ spent the night…”

 

The suggestive lilt in Rachel’s voice makes him want to rip her lungs out through her throat.

 

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Rachel,” Kurt hisses, not even attempting to be polite about it. He knows that Rachel knows nothing about what happened last night, but just the thought of her entertaining the notion of them having a passionate affair last night makes him want to vomit in her coffee.

 

Rachel rears back, nothing but sheer offense painting her face in wide brushes. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

 

Kurt glares, jabbing a finger violently in her direction. “You don’t know a _fucking thing_ about what happened last night, what we went through, what _Blaine_ went through. God, I don’t even want to hear your _voice_ right now.”

 

Rachel looks more baffled than pissed off now, setting her coffee mug down and advancing slowly on Kurt. “Kurt, what _happened_? What the hell is going on? Why are you bitching at me?”

 

“You _really_ want to know, Rachel?”

 

“Yes! I think I deserve to know!”

 

Kurt slams his cup of coffee down on the counter, his lower lip quivering as he tries not to lose himself in the welling wetness in his eyes and the heating of his sinuses. “While you were busy imagining us doing god knows what, I was doing damage control. Blaine was _assaulted_ last night, Rachel. And I don’t mean roughed up with a couple punches.”

 

Rachel’s hand flies up to clutch over her heart. “ _What_?”

 

The tears flood in Kurt’s eyes completely against his will, his chest burning with them as he tries to take even breaths and stem them. “He was taken by one of his customers and…”

 

Rachel’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets as they reflexively fill with tears as well. “Kurt…you don’t mean he was…” Kurt doesn’t dignify the situation with an answer. The silence is enough to confirm it. “Oh, _Kurt_ ,” Rachel squeaks out, obstructed by the thickness of tears that leak down her cheeks. Her arms shoot out to wind around Kurt’s neck, and he accepts the embrace, because he needs it. He had to be so strong for Blaine last night, but inside he’s falling apart and he _needs_ this.

 

“I am so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

 

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you didn’t know any different.”

 

They hold each other for a long time, until Kurt decides he needs to get back to bed before Blaine wakes up and doesn’t find him there. He spoons in behind Blaine’s still unconscious form, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his palm against Blaine’s bare stomach. Blaine’s muscles twitch and suddenly his eyes are blinking open blearily.

 

“Kurt?” His voice cracks with the morning, as well as the damage to his vocal cords, and it sounds so pitiful that Kurt’s chest seizes up.

 

“Yeah, sweetie. I’m right here.” He strokes through Blaine’s hair softly, curling it behind his ear and brushing it from his forehead. Blaine lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, turning and cuddling straight into Kurt’s arms where he is always welcome.

 

Blaine’s voice is muffled when he talks, pressed solidly against Kurt’s shirt. “I’m never going back out there.”

 

Kurt rests his chin on top of Blaine’s head and whispers, “I wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.”

 

Blaine’s breathing evens out soon enough, and he’s fast asleep and at peace on Kurt’s chest. Kurt wishes Blaine would never have to remember everything he went through last night, that he could stay asleep and dreamless forever. However, he can’t, and he will have to face up to it once again when he wakes. For now, though, he doesn’t have to remain in the real world. So Kurt doesn’t move him, doesn’t even move himself, and he lets Blaine sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER Y'ALL. It's been a journey. I'm actually really proud of myself because I've never really done a full-blown WIP before and this is my first one and i FINISHED IT! This fic is like my baby and i love it *u*. There's a good chance I'll be writing some companion fic to this 'verse (blam's first and only experiment anyone???) so look out for that. Thank you all for reading and I can't tell you how much it means to me that you like my fic. Enjoy the last chapter, guys <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: brief mentions of triggering from previous sexual abuse

A month.

 

That’s how long it takes Blaine to restore himself to some semblance of normal. To stop jumping when someone touches him. To get over his frequent aversion to sexual contact without coaxing. To walk around the city at night without shaking.

 

The cuts and bruises healed a while ago, but his sanity was another story.

 

And Kurt had been so wonderful every step of the way. Kurt’s support never wavered, and because of it, they are closer than ever. The sex is deeper, the kisses are sweeter, the companionship is stronger.

 

They _need_ each other. They can’t go a single day without a kiss or a hug or an “I love you”. They don’t live together _yet_ , but for the amount of time they spend together, they might as well. It’s more the technicalities that hinder them rather than a lack of desire to shack up. Because they _want_ to live together, for sure. It’s just finding the right apartment for the right price in the right location that they _both_ agree on. It’s a pain in the ass, frankly, and so not in the forefront of their minds.

 

Up until the past few days, they’ve been much more concerned with Blaine’s health, for which Blaine is grateful to his boyfriend. There are more important things than being able to fuck on a couch without fear of someone walking in.

 

Blaine still isn’t sure why this attack was the one that affected him so deeply. Sure, this one was a little more intense than others he’d had, and he still managed to get away.

 

But this time he had Kurt. He had Kurt to worry about, and him to worry about Blaine. Before Kurt, Blaine just had Sam. And it wasn’t like Blaine and Sam were each other’s everything. They were best friends, sure, but they have nothing on what Blaine has with Kurt. Blaine didn’t have sex with Sam (ok, _once_ , but that’s a different story), he didn’t have to hold Sam constantly to feel whole.

 

Blaine and Sam weren’t soulmates. And that’s what makes this time different. Because he had so much more to lose this time around, and he is forced to deal with the haunting reality of what would have transpired if something more serious _had_ happened to Blaine. Blaine had his share of nightmares during his recovery, and they still crop up every now and then. But he’ll wake up and more often than not Kurt will be right next to him to soothe Blaine’s worst fears.

 

Kurt is Blaine’s “forever”. He can’t picture his life without him anymore. Anything in the context of the future is “we”, never “me”. And Blaine is so content with that that it’s bordering on ridiculous.

 

“ _Oh_ , please be gentle with me baby,” Blaine says, tucking his arms under his head and resting his cheek on them as Kurt drapes his naked body on top of Blaine’s, cock poised to enter.

 

Kurt hums, smoothing the curls away from the back of his neck so he can kiss bare skin. “I’ll be _so_ gentle, sweetheart. I promise.”

 

Blaine lets out a prolonged grunt as Kurt pushes in for the first time, slow and easy as assured. “Yeah, just like that. That’s perfect.”

 

“Feels incredible. As always.” Kurt sets up a steady, undulating rhythm of his hips after he bottoms out, keeping the pace reasonable and comforting for Blaine.

 

Blaine has been increasingly sensitive toward rough sex of any kind since the incident, discovering that fact rather brutally one night when Kurt let loose on his ass and Blaine ended up having flashbacks and sobbing and screaming for him to stop.

 

Kurt hadn’t touched him for days after that, out of pure fear and shame, but Blaine quickly charmed him back in. They’ve been much more careful since then, and Blaine has found if they keep the sex mild, Blaine has no problem. He’ll be ready for more soon, just not yet. He needs more time, and Kurt has been nothing but gracious with that.

 

Now, Kurt sucks tenderly at the skin on the back of his neck he’d kissed, most likely intent on giving him a little something of himself to keep with him. Blaine has been eerily, almost _painfully_ codependent as of late. Kurt pretends like it’s a chore, but he’s always transparent when he does, finishing off his chosen commentary with a kiss to the nearest part of Blaine that he can reach.

 

Kurt picks up the pace very gradually in a way that doesn’t startle Blaine and gives them both pleasure. His hips thrust smoothly into Blaine, acquired through much practice, and they really _have_ memorized each other by now. Their rhythm becomes hypnotic for them, like it’s second nature, falling into a familiar routine even if the position isn’t always the same.

 

When the door opens behind them and Sam steps in, they don’t even bother to stop or hide what they’re doing. Nor does Sam seem too alarmed at what he’s walked in on.

 

“Dude! Batman Animated Series marathon is on in like, twenty minutes!”

 

Blaine rolls his eyes, craning his head around to look at his roommate. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

 

Kurt huffs above him with irritation, thrusting with an overly loud grunt to emphasize the current situation to their intruder. Blaine’s eyelids flutter with the well-placed fuck and he lets out a little moan.

 

“ _Nnng_ _fuck,_ Kurt. Sam, I’ll be right out okay?” Blaine repeats, a little weaker in speech this time.

 

Sam sighs a little overdramatically, but turns to leave. “Fine. But we’ve been planning this for a week. I’m not letting you skip out because you and your bunny rabbit boyfriend want to embrace the oldest bunny rabbit tradition.”

 

Kurt makes a noise of annoyance as soon as Sam closes the door. “Blaine, I love you, but I think your best friend is getting a _little_ too comfortable with us.”

 

“He means well, baby. You know that,” Blaine placates, gasping a little when Kurt nails his prostate perfectly and stretching his hand to dig his fingers into Kurt’s ass. “Yeah, fuck, right there. Fucking perfect. Besides, he’s walked in on me one too many times to be surprised by anything I’m doing.”

 

His body starts to shake infinitesimally as Kurt hits that right spot over and over, and he knows Kurt knows that he’s not going to last much longer once that happens.

 

“You gonna come, baby?” Kurt asks, right on cue, not slowing down any—if anything, he’s speeding up. “Gonna come on my cock?”

 

“God, always, baby. Come on, almost there, _fuck_ ,” Blaine whimpers out, starting to grind his hips into the mattress to give his cock the friction it requires to finish him off. He falls quickly, relatively silently as well he’s decently sure; he can’t be positive, because there’s always a whooshing sound in his ears when he comes and everything goes a bit fuzzy, like an out-of-focus camera shot. But when he resurfaces, he catches the tail-end of Kurt’s orgasm, the last couple misaligned thrusts that still send shocks through Blaine’s body.

 

The sweat between their skin has Kurt sliding off to the side of Blaine, and he resolves to flopping onto his back beside Blaine, his glistening chest rising and falling rapidly. Blaine stretches his neck out and puckers his lips, barely managing to land a kiss to the side of Kurt’s bicep with the combined distance and burnout. “I need to clean up. We _have_ been planning this all week,” Blaine says regretfully, pushing himself up onto his knees and resting his hands on his thighs.

 

“You’re throwing away a perfectly good Saturday afternoon to watch cartoons for five hours, Blaine,” Kurt deadpans, grabbing the tissues off of the side table and tossing them to Blaine.

 

“And you’re gonna be right there next to me,” Blaine says with confidence and a smile as he wipes at the come on his stomach that hadn’t been rubbed off by the sheets.

 

Kurt lets out a single, boisterous laugh. “Oh, honey, did that orgasm scramble your brains, or do you really think I’m going to sit and watch that mindless shit with you?”

 

“Well, your orgasms always scramble my brains, but that’s not the point,” Blaine says, pulling his eyebrows together in an attempt to look emotionally damaged. “I wanna be with my boyfriend. You don’t even have to _watch_. Just work on your designs. Just be there with me?”

 

Kurt sighs, sitting up and leaning backwards on his hands. “Blainey…”

 

“Please?” Blaine begs, prolonging the second syllable of the word to accentuate and throwing in a pout for good measure.

 

Kurt sighs again, this time adding an eye roll. “Okay, fine—” Blaine lets out a triumphant exclamation, but Kurt talks over him, “But _don’t_ expect me to pay attention and do _not_ continually poke me and ask me if I ‘saw that’ or any other commentary, understand?”

 

“Yes, yes, I concede to your terms!” Blaine says excitedly, pulling Kurt in with both hands pressed to his cheeks and smacking a loud kiss to his lips before releasing him. “I love you so much.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re goddamn lucky I love you too or else I would never even consider doing what I’m about to do.”

 

Blaine just hums happily, kissing Kurt on the noise before flouncing off the bed to locate his clothes flung in all directions in their previous haste and tossing Kurt’s his own in the process.

 

*

 

They’re less than two hours into the marathon when Blaine gets distracted by Kurt. In his defense, his head has been resting on Kurt’s shoulder the whole time while Kurt sketches designs on his ipad, and the movements of the lines keep catching the corner of Blaine’s eye while he tries to watch the television.

 

“I love the fringe at the bottom,” Blaine whispers, as to not disturb Sam’s utter dedication.

 

Kurt tilts his head and smiles at Blaine, halting his stylus above the screen. “Yeah? Fringe is very in right now. But it needs something, and I can’t tell what.”

 

“Maybe a little bit of Southwestern influence? Isn’t that sort of in right now too?” Blaine offers. “It’ll go well with the fringe too, won’t it? The whole ‘Cowboys and Indians’ things?”

 

It’s as if the sun rises in Kurt’s eyes as Blaine speaks. “Oh, Blaine, you’re a _genius_!” Kurt drops a strong kiss to Blaine’s lips and immediately sets to work on the design in front of him.

 

“You were bound to rub off on me at some point, weren’t you,” Blaine mutters, snuggling into Kurt’s neck.

 

“Yeah, after all the ‘rubbing off’ we’ve done since we got together…” Kurt drifts off with a smirk.

 

“Naughty. Get back to your design,” Blaine scolds playfully, kissing Kurt’s neck briefly.

 

“Blaine, are you even paying attention?” Sam demands next to him. Blaine whips his head around, eyes wide.

 

“Yes! I am absolutely paying attention. One hundred percent committed to this. Really,” Blaine insists, putting his eyes on the screen again.

 

“I swear to god, if you went an entire hour without associating with Kurt in some way your head would explode,” Sam mumbles, not hiding the bitterness there.

 

“Hey,” Blaine says softly, extracting himself from Kurt and scooting over next to Sam, curling his arms around one of Sam’s and leaning his head against his shoulder. “You’re still my number one bro and I love you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam shrugs off, but seems satisfactorily reassured. “Go back and cuddle with Kurt. I know you want to.”

 

“Nope,” Blaine says firmly. “I wanna stay right here and cuddle with you and watch the greatest Batman creation of all time.” Blaine squeezes around Sam’s arm resolutely.

 

Sam places a kiss to the top of his head and Blaine smiles. He chances a look over at Kurt, whose gaze is fixed on his ipad, but there’s a subtle smile on his lips that Blaine knows is in reaction Sam and him.

 

For what might be the first time since the incident, Blaine feels entirely comfortable and at home.

 

~*~

 

Kurt collapses back onto the bed, exhausted and flushed and feeling like he should _never_ have to exert this much energy unless he’s having a sex marathon. Which this definitely is not.

 

“Come _on_ , Kurt! We literally have, like, five boxes left to unpack!”

 

“No. Rest,” Kurt insists, his eyes drooping closed. The bed dips next to him and he peeks an eye open to see Blaine sitting next to him, one leg curled under him and the other dangling off the bed, smiling fondly down at him.

 

“We’ve had sex more intensive than this, babe,” Blaine points out, and Kurt drops his eyelid shut again.

 

“Yes, but I actually receive pleasure from that.”

 

“And getting all moved in _isn’t_ a rush of satisfaction for you? God, I clearly don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

 

“No you don’t. Now kiss me, roomie.” He hears Blaine chuckle and then feels Blaine’s breath wash over his face before pressing their lips together. Kurt hums into it happily, sucking Blaine’s lower lip into his mouth for a moment and pulling a quiet whimper from Blaine.

 

“That could be a fun roleplay, you know. Roommates who end up fucking from sexual tension…” Blaine muses, tracing the lines of Kurt’s face with the tip of his nose.

 

“You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” Kurt says, amused.

 

Nipping at Kurt’s ear he replies, “I’d rather be full of your cock.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you could fit both in that ass of yours.”

 

“You flatter me.”

 

“Not that you need the ego boost. Arrogant bastard,” Kurt mutters against Blaine’s lips that have found his again.

 

“If we finish unpacking, then we can fuck in celebration,” Blaine lets linger, dragging a finger slowly down Kurt’s chest and successfully enticing Kurt. “Christen every room in the apartment…”

 

Kurt sighs. “Deal.”

 

“Excellent,” Blaine exclaims with pride, hopping off the bed and holding his hand out to help Kurt off the bed. “I promise I’ll give you the most mind-numbing blowjob you’ve ever had in your _life_.”

 

Kurt rolls his eyes, foisting himself off the bed with Blaine’s assistance and stumbling a little with the momentum and the remaining fatigue. “I’m holding you to that. And if it’s anything less than you promised, I’m shoving a plug up your ass and that’s all you’re getting today.”

 

Blaine grabs a handful of Kurt’s shirt and yanks him forward with lust-ridden eyes. “Fuck I love when you get dominant.”

 

“Go unpack boxes,” Kurt instructs, shoving him backwards, “and when we’re done maybe I’ll show you just how dominant I can be.”

 

***

 

They’re sitting on the terrace of their new apartment, the smoke from Blaine’s cigarette rising in the night sky. Kurt has Blaine between his legs, Blaine’s back slumped against Kurt’s chest, and they’re simply content to _be_ for a while. To just be them, be together, be at peace. Kurt may not be a fan of Blaine’s sporadic smoking habit, but he knows that it’s an effective way for Blaine to calm himself down, and Kurt really doesn’t want to interfere with anything that quells Blaine’s nerves.

 

“You’re gonna do great at that music store, Blaine. It’ll be so good for you. A nice, fresh, normal start.”

 

Blaine hums in agreement at the mention of his recently acquired job, breathing smoke out through his nostrils and setting his wrist on the floor of the balcony, tapping the excess ash from his cigarette. “What, you don’t think what I did before was normal?” Blaine jokes, tipping his head back into the hollow of Kurt’s throat.

 

Kurt just grins and states the obvious. “No, Blaine, I don’t. I want you working somewhere that’s safe and where I don’t have to worry about getting a call like _that_ from you ever again.” Kurt is always hesitant to bring up anything from _that night_ when they’re talking, but Blaine has been getting much better in the past few weeks with controlling his thoughts and emotions and actually beginning to work through his demons.

 

“I know,” Blaine sighs, taking another drag as Kurt sees his hands start to shake the slightest bit from the lingering anxiety of the memory.  Blaine isn’t back to normal just yet, but he will be. As soon as he inhales, however, the tremor ceases once more. “I swear to god, I never meant to put you through anything like that. It’s the last thing I wanted.”

 

Kurt shushes him immediately. “It’s okay. I’m glad you did, baby. It’s just made us stronger, right?”

 

“Strong enough to last a lifetime.”

 

Kurt thinks about that for a moment. A lifetime with Blaine. In a way it shocks him how much the thought doesn’t shock him at all. Almost as if it was a given. That what they have, what they’ve developed—it’s always been meant to fuel them for the rest of their lives. Kurt hooks his chin over Blaine’s shoulder, pressing their cheeks together and internalizing the warmth created between them. “I’m going to marry you someday, you know,” Kurt says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t say it to pressure Blaine or make him nervous. He says it because, in his head, it’s inevitable. He knows they’ve both been thinking it for quite a while now. And at this moment, on the balcony of their own place with the buzz of the city stories beneath them, Blaine smoking a cigarette and Kurt holding him close, it’s time that the notion was finally brought to light.

 

Blaine replies as easily as Kurt expected him to, as sure as Kurt feels himself. “I look forward to it.”

 

Their lips meet perfectly, softly, but with something deeper within. The knowledge of the future between them being addressed setting them both just a little more at ease with where they’re headed, and assuring that they are going to do it together. Kurt slips the simmering cigarette from Blaine’s fingers and grinds it out, guiding Blaine and himself to their feet. He lures him back into their bedroom without another word, and Blaine follows without prompting, not even bothering to shut the terrace door behind him.

 


End file.
